






















/ 





• ;*> ; 


i 1 , ? ' 

j 


<• . ■ 


y* 


ify> • 

X. *• •• •: 


•) 


.<>41 


1 




r 






'.iM 




i 






V 

f 






> - 

’ i. ' ; 



A 


j 

















































Charles Dickens 

At the beginning of his literary career. From the 
portrait by his friend Maclise. Courtesy 
of the National Gallery 









DICKENS'S 

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


ABRIDGED AND MODIFIED BY 

!Vf CAROLYN PULCIFER TIMM 

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, STANFORD JUNIOR HIGH 
SCHOOL, SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA 


With Illustrations by 

DOROTHY RITTENHOUSE MORGAN 



D. C. HEATH AND COMPANY 

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 

ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO DALLAS 

LONDON 








HEATH’S GOLDEN KEY SERIES 

The following titles, among many others, are available 
or in preparation: 

POETRY 

Arnold’s sohrab and rustum and other poems 
browning’s shorter poetry 
french’s recent poetry 

GUINDON AND O’KEEFE’S JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL 


'p r L3 


3 


o 


POETRY 

milton’s shorter poems 
scott’s lady of the lake 
tennyson’s idylls of the king 

FICTION 

cooper’s LAST OF THE MOHICANS 
eliot’s silas marner 
eliot’s mill on the floss 
hawthorne’s house of the seven gables 

TALES FROM HAWTHORNE 

dickens’s tale of two cities ( entire ) 

dickens’s tale of two cities {editedfor rapid reading) 

scott’s ivanhoe 

SCOTT’S QUENTIN DURWARD 

WILLIAMS AND LIEBER’s PANORAMA OF THE SHORT 
STORY 

OTHER TITLES 

ADDISON AND STEELE’S SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY 
PAPERS 

boswell’s life of Johnson ( selections) 
burke’s on conciliation 

PHILLIPS AND GEISLER’s GLIMPSES INTO THE WORLD 
OF SCIENCE 

CHAMBERLAIN’S A MIRROR FOR AMERICANS 

(essays by Lowell and others about ourselves and our neighbors ) 
macaulay’s johnson 
french’s old testament narratives 
Shakespeare’s julius caesar 
Shakespeare’s midsummer night’s dream 

Copyright, 1930 

By D. C. Heath and Company 

2 K 9 

Printed in the United States of America 

(330 ©CIA 17847 


JAN 13 


This Edition of 
Nicholas Nickleby 
Is Affectionately Dedicated to 
Ernestine Timm-Harris 
By Her Mother 


PREFACE 


T he editor of this edition has rearranged the sequence 
of events in chronological order, to assist pupils in 
following so complicated a plot. She has made some omis¬ 
sions and some explanations very necessary to Americans; 
for the main thing is to introduce the pupil to a rapid and 
dramatic story, not to bewilder him with notes and to ob¬ 
scure the plot with difficult and often unimportant Briti¬ 
cisms. But the story she has left absolutely intact, and in 
simplifying an occasional word or sentence she has in each 
case intended to preserve the Dickens style and spirit. 

The lesson helps have a twofold purpose: to help the pupil 
to study independently and to lighten the “ teacher load ” 
by offering a variety of suggestions for provocative discus¬ 
sion and projects. 


C. P. T. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


Preface . 

Introduction (Life of Charles Dickens) 
Principal Characters 
Nicholas Nickleby . . 

Questions and Exercises 


PAGE 

vi 

ix 

xxi 

1 

593 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Charles Dickens. Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Of which delicious compound she administered a large 
installment to each boy in succession .... 45 

“ Just so, Mr. Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini. 

“ Can you speak French, child ? ” .... 81 

“Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted boy! ” . . 261 

The brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him 
all the way.317 

" Here he is, father. Hooray! ” vibrated in his ears 349 

Into a front room he was shown.411 

Nothing was visible but a pair of legs .... 423 

“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you — that I 
was — going to be married ? ”.443 


vm 


INTRODUCTION 

Why Dickens Is Great 

T HE people we remember longest are those who have 
had much influence, who have caused greater things to 
happen, or not to happen, than those about them. It is 
necessary to discover in what manner Charles Dickens had 
such great influence, what he caused to happen which 
showed greater strength than that of others about him, 
what made him stand above other people not only of his 
own time but of all times. For there is no doubt that 
Charles Dickens is better remembered than any other novel¬ 
ist. He has been not only the most popular novelist of the 
nineteenth century but is still the writer whose books, as a 
whole, have had a greater sale than those of any other novel¬ 
ist of the present day. During the World War there were 
more of these novels read in the army camps than any others. 

Success is measured by the handicaps overcome as well 
as by surpassing achievements. Dickens showed his great 
strength, courage, and remarkable personality by overcom¬ 
ing the two very great handicaps of poverty and lack of 
education. He was born at Landport in Portsea on the 
southern coast of England, February 7, 1812, being the sec¬ 
ond child in the family, of which there were six more chil¬ 
dren later. His father, John Dickens, was a clerk in the 
navy pay office with a salary of eighty pounds a year 
(about $388), not enough for such a large family even in 
those times when money had greater value than in later 
times. Although the salary was increased afterwards to 
three hundred and fifty pounds (about $1697) his father 
was never able to live within his income. He seemed to be 
always poor and improvident, a man of considerable ability 
but not capable of any kind of financial management. 

ix 


X 


INTRODUCE ION 


Dickens’s Boyhood 

The boyhood of Dickens was probably quite unhappy, for 
it was full of hardship and worry. Much of the story of 
David Copperfield was his own life and Mr. Micawber (in 
the same book), genial, hopeful, sorrowful, despairing, jolly, 
easy-going, always waiting for “ something to turn up ” was 
the character of his own father. Mrs. Dickens is said to 
have been a great deal like Mrs. Nickleby — not very intel¬ 
lectual, impractical, often rather simple and almost frivo¬ 
lous, although always kind, affectionate, and of excellent 
character. At one time Mrs. Dickens tried to help out the 
family income by starting a private school for young ladies. 
On the front door was a door-plate reading, “ Mrs. Dick¬ 
ens’s Establishment.” Charles was sent around to dis¬ 
tribute circulars describing the advantages of this school; 
but though he left these at many doors, nobody ever came 
to the school, and he could not remember seeing his mother 
make any preparation for receiving pupils if they should 
come. But his mother taught him to read when he was very 
young and also to construe a little Latin, which showed that 
she was above the average mother of those times. 

At the age of eight began the first regular school expe¬ 
rience of Charles Dickens. For one year he attended the 
school of a Mr. Giles in Clover Lane, Chatham, where John 
Dickens, his father, happened to be stationed at the time! 
Mr. Giles did a great deal for the young boy with his sym¬ 
pathy, intelligence, and ability to interest him in books. It 
was here that Dickens began to read a great deal. When 
the child was almost ten years old, the family moved to 
London; and on account of the constantly increasing pov¬ 
erty of his father, they were forced to live in a very poor 
house in one of the poorest of the London suburbs. About 
those early years Dickens said: “ I know that we got on 
very badly with the butcher and baker; and that very often 
we had not too much for dinner; and that at last my father 
was arrested.” 

He was arrested because he could not pay his bills, and 


DICKENS’S BOYHOOD 


xi 


placed in the Marshalsea Prison for debtors. Dickens has 
left a description of his first visit to his father in prison. 
“ My father was waiting for me in the lodge, and we 
went up to his room (on the story next to the top but 
one), and cried very much. And he told me, I remember, 
to take warning by the Marshalsea, and to observe that if a 
man had twenty pounds a year, and spent nineteen pounds, 
nineteen shillings, and sixpence, he would be happy; but a 
shilling spent the other way would make him wretched. I 
see the fire we sat before, now; with two bricks inside 
the rusted grate, one on each side, to prevent its burning 
too many coals. Some other debtor shared the room 
with him, who came in by and by; and as the dinner was 
a joint-stock repast, I was sent up to 1 Captain Porter’ 
in the room overhead, with Mr. Dickens’s compliments 
and I was his son, and could he, Captain P. lend me a 
knife and fork? ” 

Later he said: “ I know my father to be as kind-hearted 
and generous a man as ever lived in the world. Every¬ 
thing that I can remember of his conduct to his wife, or 
children, or friends, in sickness or affliction is beyond all 
praise. By me, as a sick child, he has watched night and 
day, unweariedly and patiently many nights and days. He 
never undertook any business charge, or trust that he did 
not jealously, conscientiously, punctually, honorably, dis¬ 
charge. His industry has always been untiring. He was 
proud of me, in his way. . . . But in the ease of his tem¬ 
per, and the straitness of his means, he appeared to have 
utterly lost at this time the idea of educating me at all, and 
to have utterly put from him the notion that I had any 
claim upon him, in that regard, whatever. So I degenerated 
into cleaning his boots of a morning, and my own; and mak¬ 
ing myself useful in the work of the little house; and looking 
after my younger brothers and sisters; and going on such 
errands as arose out of our poor way of living:” In The Un¬ 
commercial Traveler Dickens gives a picture of himself as a 
child. He was a “very queer small boy,” nine years old, 
with delicate health;, fond of reading, having read many 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION 

books unusual to be read by so young a child. In David 
Copperfield a list of these books is given which included 
Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, 
Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Bias, 
and Robinson Crusoe. He tells us also that he used to 
impersonate the characters Tom Jones or Roderick for 
weeks at a time. 

When Charles was twelve years old, a relative who had 
recently become interested in the blacking business sug¬ 
gested that the boy take a position in this warehouse; so he 
went to work for the firm, pasting labels on bottles and 
boxes, a job that he thoroughly detested. He said of him¬ 
self during that time: “No words can express the secret 
agony of my soul as I sunk into this companionship ; com¬ 
pared these every-day associates with those of my happier 
childhood; and felt my early hopes of growing up to be a 
learned and distinguished man crushed in my breast. The 
deep remembrance of the sense I had of being utterly neg¬ 
lected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position; of 
the misery it was to my young heart to believe that, day by 
day, what I had learned, and thought, and delighted in, and 
raised my fancy and my emulation up by, was passing away 
from me, never to be brought back any more, cannot be 
written. My whole nature was so penetrated with grief 
and humiliation of such considerations that even now, fa¬ 
mous and caressed and happy, I often forget in my dreams 
that I have a dear wife and children; even that I am a man; 
and wander desolately back to that time of my life. . . . 
At last, one day, my father and the relative quarreled, quar¬ 
reled by letter, for I took the letter from my father to him 
which caused the explosion, but quarreled very fiercely. It 
was about me. All that I am certain of is that soon after I 
had given him the letter, my cousin (he was a sort of cousin 
by marriage) told me he was very much insulted about me, 
and that it was impossible to keep me after that. I cried 
very much, partly because it was so sudden, and partly be¬ 
cause in his anger he was violent about my father, though 
gentle to me. Thomas, the old soldiex, comforted me, and 


DICKENS TURNS REPORTER xiii 

said he was sure it was for the best. With a relief so strange 
that it was like oppression, I went home. 

“ My mother set herself to accommodate the quarrel, and 
did so next day. She brought home a request for me to re¬ 
turn next morning, and a high character of me, which I am 
very sure I deserved. My father said I should go back no 
more, and should go to school. I do not write resentfully 
or angrily, for I know how all these things have worked 
together to make me what I am; but I never afterwards 
forgot, I never shall forget, I never can forget, that my 
mother was warm for my being sent back.” 

He was twelve when he left the blacking warehouse, and 
up to this time he had felt lonely and neglected very many 
times. Now he was sent to school at Wellington House 
Academy for about two years. This was his last school ex¬ 
perience. The school, although not an extra fine one, gave 
him the companionship which he had always wanted. He 
was a day scholar for about two years. This period did not 
seem to make much impression on his mind, except to 
brighten his life and make his disposition more cheerful. 
From twelve to fourteen he worked as an attorney’s clerk 
at a salary of thirteen shillings sixpence a week, afterward 
increased to fifteen shillings. Here he picked up the knowl¬ 
edge of human life, criminals, law, and judicial proceedings 
which he used so effectively in his stories. But he did not 
intend to be a lawyer’s clerk all his life. His father, after 
leaving the debtor’s prison, had taken up journalism, and 
Charles decided to follow his example. He began the study 
of shorthand, working very hard at this. At the same time 
he spent much time reading in the library of the British 
Museum. 


Dickens Turns Reporter 

In a year or two he became an expert stenographer. He 
was nineteen when he became a reporter for the True Sun 
and entered the gallery of the House of Commons to report 
the proceedings for the paper. When he was twenty-three 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


he became a reporter for the Morning Chronicle; and from 
this time his future as a writer seemed established. He 
soon began to write for periodicals. His first article was a 
little story called “ A Dinner at Poplar Walk.” This, he 
says, he dropped very secretly into “ a dark letter box in a 
dark office up a dark court in Fleet-Street.” It was printed 
in the Old Monthly Magazine when he was twenty-one 
years old. He was overcome with joy at this event. “ I 
walked down to Westminster Hall” he later wrote, “and 
turned into it for half an hour, because my eyes were so 
dimmed with joy and pride that they could not bear the 
streets and were not fit to be seen there.” 

Other articles were printed in the same magazine and 
were later collected and printed in two small volumes under 
the title of Sketches by Boz (an old family nickname in the 
Dickens family). These little sketches give a good descrip¬ 
tion of London in the time of Dickens. They were favor¬ 
ably received and encouraged the author to attempt more 
writing. 

As a new writer he was asked to write a series of comic 
sketches on sporting subjects. It was suggested that he 
write the adventures of the members of some eccentric club. 
So Dickens wrote the Pickwick Payers. The story came 
out in twenty monthly installments, costing one shilling a 
number, and finally was published in book form. This story 
made Dickens famous, and he was asked to write more 
stories. A new class of characters representing certain odd 
phases of life became well known to the public. Mr. Pick¬ 
wick, Sam Weller, Mr. Winkle, and others were made fa¬ 
miliar to all peoples. There was an enormous demand for 
copies of these stories. Dickens remained just as popular 
to the day of his death. In England alone, during the 
twelve years succeeding his death, more than 4,239,000 
volumes were sold. Before he had finished Pickwick, he 
began work on Oliver Twist, and the two were running in 
monthly installments at the same time. 

He made his characters, who were almost always poor and 
humble people, enormously popular; and he did a great deal 


XV 


DICKENS IN AMERICA 

toward making their lot an easier one. In Oliver Twist he 
denounced the wretched way in which poorhouses cared for 
their dependents. In Nicholas Nickleby he'described Mr. 
Squeers’s school so vividly that several masters threatened 
to sue him for describing a school which their guilty con¬ 
sciences recognized as their own. In Bleak House he sati¬ 
rized the slow and expensive procedure of the courts. 

Dickens in America 

It was a great test of his strength of character when he 
visited America in 1842, for the Americans were so glad to 
see him that he was treated much as Lindbergh was treated 
when he landed in Paris. There was one continuous joyful 
celebration and a most tremendous desire to see him all the 
time he was in America. Describing that time in some of 
his letters, he said: “ How can I give you the faintest notion 
of my reception here; of the crowds that pour in and out 
the whole day; of the people that line the streets when I go 
out; of the cheering when I went to the theater; of the 
copies of verses of congratulation, welcomes of all kinds, 
balls, dinners, assemblies without end? . . . What can I 
tell you about any of these things which will give you the 
slightest notion of the enthusiastic greeting they give me, 
or the cry that runs through the whole country! ” 

The public did not give him any rest day or night. When 
he went through New England, his journey was like that 
of a president of the United States. At some of the smaller 
cities through which he passed, almost the entire population 
turned out, and the train was stopped to give the people a 
chance to see him. In the larger cities where he spoke there 
were gigantic receptions before and after the lecture. Re¬ 
garding more of his visit he said: “ Dana, the author of Two 
Years Before the Mast , is a very nice fellow indeed; and in 
appearance not at all the man you would expect. He is 
short, mild looking, and has a care worn /face. The pro¬ 
fessors at the Cambridge University, Longfellow, Felton, 
Jared Sparks, are noble fellows. Bancroft is a famous man; 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 

a straightforward, manly, earnest heart. Dr. Channing I 
will tell you more of, after I have breakfasted with him. 
We leave here next Saturday. We go to a town called 
Worcester, about seventy-five miles off, to the house of the 
governor of this place; and stay with him all Sunday. On 
Monday we go on by railroad about fifty miles farther to a 
town called Springfield, where I am met by a 1 reception 
committee ’ from Hartford twenty miles farther, and carried 
on by the multitude. On Wednesday I have a public dinner 
there. On Friday I shall be obliged to present myself m 
public again, at a place called New Haven, about thirty 
miles farther. On Saturday evening I hope to be in New 
York.” In this place he met Washington Irving for whom 
he had much admiration. His stay in Washington is de¬ 
scribed in his own words: “ I have the privilege of appear¬ 
ing on the floor of both houses here, and go to them every 
day. They are very handsome and commodious. There is a 
great deal of bad speaking, but there are a very great many 
remarkable men, in the legislature; such as John Quincy 
Adams, Clay, Preston,.Calhoun, and others: with whom I 
need scarcely add I have been placed in the friendliest rela¬ 
tions. Adams is a fine old fellow — seventy-six years old, 
but with the most surprising vigor, memory, readiness and 
pluck. Clay is perfectly enchanting; an irresistible man. 
There are some very noble specimens, too, out of the West. 
Splendid men to look at, hard to deceive, prompt to act, 
lions in energy, Indians in quickness of eye and gesture, 
Americans in affectionate and generous impulse. 

But all this admiration and love for Dickens by the 
Americans did not blind him to their faults any more than 
the affection of his own people blinded him to the faults of 
the English nation. When he reached home after his visit 
Dickens published a volume called American Notes, in 
which he gave some fine descriptions of his visits and criti¬ 
cized favorably and unfavorably. It is interesting to know 
that this book was the means of Helen Keller’s beginning 
her education. As she was deaf and blind since she was a 
little more than a year old, her future seemed hopeless. 


THE HEIGHT OF FAME xvii 

One day when she was six her mother remembered reading 
in Dickens’s American Notes the description of the marvel¬ 
ous achievements of the deaf and blind girl Laura Bridgman, 
who was educated in a school in Boston which Dickens had 
praised very highly. Mrs, Keller sent to this school for a 
teacher for Helen, and Miss Anne Sullivan (Mrs. Macey) 
was sent, one of the most wonderful teachers the world has 
ever known. The miraculous attainments of Helen Keller 
are known to all peoples at the present time. (Mark 
Twain said that Helen Kellet and Napoleon were the two 
most interesting characters of the nineteenth century.) 

As the years went by, novels followed one another in 
rapid succession. After American Notes came Martin Chuz- 
zlewit, also containing descriptions of American life. Then, 
after a trip abroad during which he still wrote, Dickens be¬ 
came manager of a group of amateur actors at Manchester. 
They called themselves the “ Splendid Strollers ” and under 
Dickens’s direction became quite famous. They played the 
rollicking comedy of Ben Jonson, Every Man in His Hu¬ 
mour. In 1852 they presented a farce entitled Mr. Night¬ 
ingale before Queen Victoria. 

The greatest novel of all came out in 1850. David Cop- 
perfield contains the humor and pathos of his earlier works 
with his ability at character drawing finally developing into 
character building, which most critics consider a still higher 
and more difficult form of art. 


The Height of Fame 

During the last years of his life, when he was about fifty- 
eight, Dickens gave readings from his own books. From the 
favorable position in which the public held him Dickens felt 
sure that he would be well received, and he was not at all 
disappointed. In fact, he was more successful than he had 
imagined he could be. This was due to his dramatic ability 
as well as to his interesting readings and his popularity with 
people in general. He soon began to memorize all his selec¬ 
tions for his readings which made him still more entertain- 


XV111 


INTRODUCTION 


ing. After traveling over the British Isles, he visited the 
United States for the second time to give readings in this 
country also. Here he was again received with wild enthu¬ 
siasm and his readings were wonderfully popular. He said, 
regarding this time: “It is really impossible to exaggerate 
the magnificence of the reception or the effect of the read¬ 
ing. The whole city will talk of nothing else to-day. Every 
ticket for those announced here [Boston] and in New York, 
is sold.” Dickens gave readings in Philadelphia, Washing¬ 
ton, Baltimore, Buffalo, Albany, Springfield, Portland, 
Maine, and in every place he went he was given the same 
ovation. But his health began to decline before he left this 
country. Such hard and constant work for so many years 
showed its effect in a weakened constitution. 

When he returned to England, however, he wished to 
make one more series of readings. The Mystery of Edwin 
Drood was the subject which was appearing in the maga¬ 
zine All the Year Round. This story gave promise of being 
the best of any of the previous novels. But it was never 
finished. The mystery was never solved. Dickens died 
very suddenly at his home, Gadshill Place, near Rochester, 
on June 9, 1870. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
Almost the whole world mourned the loss of this greatest 
writer of the nineteenth century. In his will he said re¬ 
garding his funeral: “ I emphatically direct that I be buried 
in an inexpensive, unostentatious, and strictly private man¬ 
ner; that no public announcement be made of the time or 
place of my burial; that at the utmost not more than three 
plain mourning coaches be employed, and that those who 
attend my funeral wear no scarf, cloak, black bow, long hat 
band, or other such revolting absurdity. I direct that my 
name be inscribed in plain English letters on my tomb with¬ 
out the addition of ‘ Mr/ or ‘ Esquire/ I conjure my friends 
on no account to make me the subject of any monument, 
memorial, or testimonial whatever. I rest my claims to the 
remembrance of my country upon my published works, and 
to the remembrance of my friends upon their experience of 
me in addition thereto.” Everything was done that could 


THE HEIGHT OF FAME 


xix 


possibly be done to carry out these wishes, but no one could 
have prevented the great display of grief in nearly every 
country and the many testimonials to his memory. Dickens 
had ten children, seven of whom were living at the time of 
his death. 

Carlyle described the appearance of Dickens in a letter 
to John Carlyle in 1840.* “ He is a fine little fellow — Boz, 
I think. Clear blue, intelligent eyes, eyebrows that he 
arches amazingly. Large, protrusive, rather loose mouth, a 
face of most extreme mobility, which he shuttles about — 
eyebrows, eyes, mouth and all — in a very singular manner 
while speaking ... a quiet, shrewd-looking little fellow, who 
seems to guess pretty well that he is and what others are.” 

Daniel Webster said that Dickens had done more to bet¬ 
ter the condition of the English poor than all the statesmen 
Great Britain had sent into Parliament. 

Of all the works of Charles Dickens Nicholas Nickleby is 
perhaps the most entertaining. One source of our enter¬ 
tainment in stories is in seeing others engaged in a strug¬ 
gle which oftentimes is greater than the one we are making 
with life. Practically all games and all recreations involve 
a struggle, just as life does. So all literature which rep¬ 
resents life truly must show some contest or struggle. Be¬ 
cause Nicholas Nickleby is in such a contest and because he is 
such a good fighter, we like his character and enjoy his story. 

There is a great deal of action in this narrative, for events 
crowd on one another, and the enemies of Nicholas are strong 
with wealth and power. Nicholas is the leader of one side, of 
course, with about eight who sympathize with him. His uncle 
leads the enemy, with perhaps sixteen strong allies. Smike, 
Madeline, and Brooker belong to neither side at first, but 
their final decision and sympathy determine the victory. 

Dickens’s idea for his novel of Nicholas Nickleby grew out of 
real life. The cruel treatment of boys in Yorkshire schools 
came to the attention of the author, and his indignation was 
strongly aroused. He decided to strike these schools a hard 
blow — with the weapon of public ridicule. He was so suc¬ 
cessful that several Yorkshire schoolmasters threatened to 


XX 


INTRODUCTION 


sue him for libel, saying that he was describing their own in¬ 
stitutions. The picture of Wackford Squeers and Dothe- 
boys Hall caused a sweeping reform. 

Like all the works of this author, the characters and con¬ 
ditions described are founded on facts. Two characters were 
taken from real life. These were the two Cheeryble brothers, 
two of the best people ever portrayed in or out of fiction. 
They were greatly beloved by Charles Dickens, who was 
well acquainted with these German merchants. 

Suggestions for Themes and Precis Writing 

1. Write one paragraph on the life of Charles Dickens, of 
two hundred words, describing his home life, education, work, 
and books in general. 

2. Prepare an oral composition on three events during the 
time of Dickens. 

3. Prepare an oral composition on three contemporaries of 
Dickens, telling for what reason each one is well remembered. 


PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS 


Nicholas Nickleby 
Kate Nickleby, his sister 
Mrs. Nickleby, his mother 
Ralph Nickleby, his uncle 

Miss La Creevy, landlady to the Nickleby s and a miniature 
painter 

Wackford Squeers, Headmaster and owner of Dotheboys 
Hall 

Mrs. Squeers, his wife 
Master Wackford Squeers, his son 
Fannie Squeers, his daughter 
Smike 

Matilda Price, friend of Fannie 
John Browdie, fiance of Matilda 
Newman Noggs, clerk to Ralph Nickleby 
Mr. Vincent Crummles, actor-manager 
Mr. Snawley 

Sir Mulberry HAW r K, Lord Verisopht, Mr. Pyke, Mr. 
Pluck 

Charles Cheeryble, Ned Cheeryble, Frank Cheeryble 
Tim Linkinwater, clerk to Cheeryble Brothers 
Madeline Bray, Mr. Bray 
Arthur Gride 
Peg Sliderskew 

Mr. Mantalini, Madame Mantalini 

Mrs. Witterly, Mr. Witterly 

Miss Knag, employed by Madame Mantalini 

Mr. Brooker 

The Mad Gentleman 


xxi 
















NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER I 

M R. RALPH NICKLEBY took a cordial farewell of 
his fellow speculators and bent his steps homeward in 
unwonted good humour. As he passed Saint Paul’s he stepped 
aside into a doorway to set his watch, and with his hand on 
the key and his eye on the cathedral dial, was intent upon 
so doing, when a man suddenly stopped before him. It was 
Newman Noggs, his clerk. 

“ Ah, Newman,” said Mr. Nickleby, looking up, “ the 
letter about the mortgage has come, has it? I thought it 
would.” 

“ Wrong.” 

“ What! And nobody called respecting it ? ” 

Noggs shook his head. 
f What has come, then ? ” 
r I have.” 

“ What else ? ” demanded his master, sternly. 

“ This,” said Newman, drawing a sealed letter slowly 
from his pocket. 

“Black wax, black border; I know something of that 
writing, too. Newman, I shouldn’t be surprised if my brother 
were dead.” 

“ I don’t think you would,” said Newman, quietly. 

“ Why not, sir? ” 

“You never are surprised — that’s all.” 


2 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Mr. Nickleby snatched the letter from his assistant, and 
fixing a cold look upon him, opened, read it, put it in his 
pocket, and having set his watch correctly to a second, began 
winding it up. 

“ It is as I expected, Newman. He is dead. Dear me. 
Well, that’s a sudden thing. I shouldn’t have thought it, 
really.” With these touching expressions of sorrow, Mr. 
Nickleby put his watch into his pocket, and fitting on his 
gloves to a nicety, turned upon his way, and walked slowly 
along with his hands behind him. 

“ Children alive? ” inquired Newman, stepping up to him. 

“ Why, that’s the very thing,” replied Mr. Nickleby, as 
though his thoughts were about them at that moment. 
“ They are both alive.” 

“ Both! ” repeated Newman Noggs, in a low voice. 

“ And the widow, too,” added Mr. Nickleby, “ and all 
three in London, confound them — all three here, Newman.” 

Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face was 
curiously twisted as by a spasm; but whether of grief or 
inward laughter, nobody but himself could possibly explain. 

“ Go home! ” said Mr. Nickleby, after they had walked 
a few paces, looking round at the clerk as if he were his dog. 
The words were scarcely uttered when Newman darted across 
the road, slunk among the crowd, and disappeared in an in¬ 
stant. 

“ Reasonable, certainly! ” muttered Mr. Nickleby to him¬ 
self, as he walked on, “ very reasonable! My brother never 
did anything for me, and I never expected it. The breath is 
no sooner out of his body than I am to be looked to as the 
support of a great hearty woman and a grown boy and girl. 
What are they to me! I never saw them.” 

Full of these reflections Mr. Nickleby went to that part of 
London where these relatives were staying and stopped at 
a private dwelling in a crowded thoroughfare. 


3 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

A miniature painter lived in this place, for there was a 
large gilt frame screwed upon the street door, in which were 
displayed, upon black velvet, many kinds of small hand- 
painted portraits. Mr. Nickleby glanced at these with great 
contempt and gave a double knock, which, having been 
three times repeated, was answered by a servant girl. 

“ Is Mrs. Nickleby at home? ” demanded Ralph, sharply. 

“ Her name ain’t Nickleby,” said the girl, “ La Creevy, you 
mean.” 

“ Who is wanted, Hannah ? ” asked a female voice, at the 
end of the hall. 

“ Mrs. Nickleby,” said Ralph. 

“ the second floor, Hannah,” said the same voice, “ what 
a stupid thing you are! Is the second floor at home, 
Hannah ? ” 

“ Somebody went out just now, but I think it was the 
attic which had been acleaning of himself,” replied the girl. 

“ You had better see,” said the invisible female. “ Show 
the gentleman where the bell is, and tell him he mustn’t 
knock double knocks for the second floor.” 

“Here,” said Ralph, walking in, “I beg your pardon; is 
that Mrs. La what’s-her-name ? ” 

“ Creevy — La Creevy,” replied the voice, as a yellow 
headdress bobbed over the banisters. 

“ I’ll speak to you a moment, ma’am, with your leave,” 
said Ralph. 

The voice replied that the gentleman was to walk up; but 
he had walked up before it spoke, and w r as received by the 
wearer of the yellow headdress, who had a gown to correspond 
and was of much the same color herself. Miss La Creevy was 
a mincing young lady of fifty, and Miss La Creevy’s apart¬ 
ment looked like the gilt frame downstairs on a larger scale. 

“ I infer from what you said to your servant that the floor 
above belongs to you, ma’am?” said Mr. Ralph Nickleby. 


4 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Yes. The upper part of the house belongs to me. There 
is a lady from the country and her two children in them at 
present.” 

“ A widow, ma’am ? ” 

“ Yes, she is a widow,” replied the lady. 

“ A poor widow, ma’am,” said Ralph. 

“ Well, I am afraid she is poor.” 

“ I happen to know that she is. Now, what business has 
a poor widow in such a house as this? I know her circum¬ 
stances intimately, ma’am; in fact I am a relation of the 
family, and I should recommend you not to keep them here.” 

“ I should hope, if there was any inability to meet the 
expense, the lady’s family would-” 

“ No, they wouldn’t,” interrupted Ralph, hastily. “ Don’t 
think it. I am the family, ma’am, — at least, I believe I 
am the only relation they have, and I think it right that 
you should know I can’t support them in their extravagances. 
How long have they taken these lodgings for ? ” 

“Only from week to week. Mrs. Nickleby paid the first 
week in advance.” 

“Then you had better get them out at the end of it; they 
can’t do better than go back to the country, ma’am; they are 
in everybody’s way here.” 

“Yet I have nothing whatever to say against the lady,” 
said Miss La Creevy. “ She seems extremely pleasant, 
though, poor thing, terribly low in her spirits; nor against 
the young people either, for nicer or better behaved young 
people cannot be.” 

“ Very well, ma’am,” said Ralph, turning to the door, “ I 
have done my duty, and perhaps more than I ought. Good 
morning.” 

He began to climb another flight of stairs, saying to him¬ 
self, “ Now for my sister-in-law. Bah.” He stopped on a 
landing to take breath when he was overtaken by Miss La 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 5 

Creevy’s servant girl, who came up to announce him to his 
relatives. 

“ What name?” said the girl. 

“Nickleby.” 

“Oh! Mrs. Nickleby,” said the girl, throwing open the 
door, “ here’s Mr. Nickleby.” 

A lady in deep mourning rose as Mr. Ralph Nickleby 
entered, but appeared incapable of advancing to meet him, 
and leaned upon the arm of a slight but very beautiful girl 
of about seventeen, who had been sitting by her. A youth, 
who appeared a year or two older, stepped forward and 
saluted Ralph as his uncle. 

“ Oh,” growled Ralph, “ you are Nicholas, I suppose.” 

“ That is my name, sir.” 

“ Put my hat down,” said Ralph imperiously. “Well, 
ma’am, how do you do? You must bear up against sorrow. 
I always do.” 

“ Mine was no common loss!” said Mrs. Nickleby, apply¬ 
ing her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“ It was no uncommon loss,” returned Ralph, as he coolly 
unbuttoned his overcoat. “ Husbands die every day, ma’am, 
and wives too.” 

“ And brothers, also, sir,” said Nicholas, with a glance of 
indignation. 

“ Yes, sir, and puppies, and pupdogs likewise,” replied his 
uncle, taking a chair. “ You didn’t mention in your letter 
what my brother’s complaint was, ma’am.” 

“ The doctors could attribute it to no particular disease,” 
said Mrs. Nickleby, shedding tears. “But on account of 
losing our home and all our fortune, we have too much reason 
to fear that he died of a broken heart.” 

“ Pooh! ” said Ralph, “ there’s no such thing. I can under¬ 
stand a man’s dying of a broken neck, or suffering from a 
broken arm, or a broken head, or a broken leg, or a broken 


6 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


nose; but a broken heart! nonsense, it’s the cant of the 
day. If a man can’t pay his debts, he dies of a broken heart, 
and his widow’s a martyr.” 

“ Some people, I believe, have no hearts to break,” observed 
Nicholas. 

“ How old is this boy, for God’s sake? ” inquired Ralph, 
wheeling back his chair, and surveying his nephew from head 
to foot with intense scorn. 

“ Nicholas is nearly nineteen,” replied his mother. 

“ Nineteen, eh! And what do you mean to do for your 
bread, sir ? ” 

“ Not to live upon my mother,” replied Nicholas, his heart 
swelling as he spoke. 

“ You’d have little enough to live upon, if you did,” re¬ 
torted his uncle, eyeing him contemptuously. 

“ Whatever it be, I shall not look to you to make it more,” 
said Nicholas, flushed with anger. 

“ Nicholas, my dear, recollect yourself,” remonstrated Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

“ Dear Nicholas, please,” urged the young lady. 

“Keep still, sir,” said Ralph. “Upon my word! Fine 
beginnings, Mrs. Nickleby — fine beginnings! ” 

Mrs. Nickleby made no other reply than entreating Nicho¬ 
las, by a gesture, to keep silent; and the uncle and nephew 
looked at each other for some seconds without speaking. 

“ Well, ma’am,” said Ralph, impatiently, “ the creditors 
have administered, you tell me, and there’s nothing left for 
you? ” 

“ Nothing,” replied Mrs. Nickleby. 

“And you spent what little money you had in coming 
all the way to London, to see what I could do for you ? ” 
pursued Ralph. 

“ I hoped,” faltered Mrs. Nickleby, “ that you might have 
an opportunity of doing something for your brother’s chil- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 7 

dren. It was his dying wish that I should appeal to you in 
their behalf.” 

“ I don’t know how it is,” muttered Ralph, walking up and 
down the room; “ but whenever a man dies without any 
property of his own, he always seems to think he has a right 
to dispose of other people’s. What is your daughter fit for, 
ma’am ? ” 

“Kate has been well educated,” sobbed Mrs. Nickleby. 
“ Tell your uncle, my dear, how far you went in French and 
extras.” 

The poor girl was about to murmur something, when her 
uncle stopped her. 

“ We must try to get you apprenticed at some boarding 
school. You have not been brought up too delicately for 
that, I hope? ” 

“ No, indeed, uncle,” replied the weeping girl. “ I will try 
to do anything that will gain me a home and bread.” 

“ Well, well,” said Ralph, a little softened, either by his 
niece’s beauty or her distress. “ You must try it, and if 
the life is too hard, perhaps dressmaking or tambour work will 
come lighter. Have you ever done anything, sir ? ” (turning 
to his nephew). 

“ No,” replied Nicholas, bluntly. 

“No, I thought not! ” said Ralph. “This is the way 
my brother brought up his children, ma’am.” 

“ Nicholas has not long completed such education as his 
poor father could give him,” rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, “ and 
he was thinking of-” 

“ Of making something of him some day,” said Ralph. 
“The old story; always thinking, and never doing. If my 
brother had been a man of activity and prudence, he might 
have left *y° u a rich woman, ma’am: and if he had turned 
his son into the world, as my father turned me, when I wasn’t 
as old as that boy by a year and a half, he would have been 


8 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


in a situation to help you. My brother was a thoughtless, 
inconsiderate man, Mrs. Nickleby, and nobody, I am sure, 
can have better reason to feel that than you.” 

Mrs. Nickleby was not able to answer, so Ralph went on. 
“ Are you willing to work, sir? ” he inquired, frowning on 
his nephew. 

“ Of course I am,” replied Nicholas haughtily. 

“ Then see here,” said his uncle. “ This caught my eye 
this morning, and you may thank your stars for it.” 

Mr. Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper from his pocket, 
and looking for a short time among the advertisements, read 
as follows: 

“ ‘ Education. — At Mr. Wackford Squeers’s Academy, 
Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, 
near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youth are boarded, clothed, 
booked, furnished with pocket money, provided with all 
necessaries, instructed in all languages, living and dead, 
mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigo¬ 
nometry, the use of the globes, algebra, writing, arithmetic, 
and every other branch of classical literature. Terms, 
twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and 
diet unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town, and attends daily, 
from one till four, at the Saracen’s Head Hotel, Snow Hill. 
N. B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary £5. A 
master of arts would be preferred.’ 

“ There! ” said Ralph, folding the paper again. “ Let him 
get that situation, and his fortune is made.” 

“ But he is not a master of arts,” said Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ That,” replied Ralph, “that, I think, can be got over.” 
“ But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off, 
uncle! ” faltered Kate. 

“ Hush, Kate, my dear,” interposed Mrs. Nickleby; “ your 
uncle must know best.” 

“ I say,” repeated Ralph, tartly, “ let him get that situa- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


9 


tion, and his fortune is made. If he don’t like that, let him 
get one for himself. Without friends, money, recommenda¬ 
tion, or knowledge of business of any kind, let him find 
honest employment in London w T hich will keep him in shoe 
leather, and I’ll give him a thousand pounds. At least,” 
said Mr. Ralph Nickleby, checking himself, “ I would if I 
had it.” 

“ Poor fellow! ” said the young lady. “ Oh! uncle, must 
w r e be separated so soon! ” 

“ Don’t tease your uncle with questions when he is think¬ 
ing only for our good, my love,” said Mrs. Nickleby. 
“ Nicholas, my dear, I wish you w r ould say something.” 

“ Yes, mother, yes,” said Nicholas, who had remained 
silent. “ If I am fortunate enough to be appointed to this 
post, sir, what will become of those I leave behind ? ” 

“ Your mother and sister will be provided for, in that case 
(not otherwise), by me, and placed in some sphere of life 
in which they will be able to be independent. That will be 
my immediate care; they will not remain as they are, one 
week after your departure, I will undertake.” 

“ Then,” said Nicholas, starting gaily up, and wringing his 
uncle’s hand, “ I am ready to do anything you wish. Let us 
try our fortune with Mr. Squeers at once; he can but refuse.” 

“ He won’t do that. He will be glad to have you on my 
recommendation. Make yourself of use to him, and you’ll 
rise to be a partner in the establishment in no time. Bless 
me, only think! if he were to die, why, your fortune’s made 
at once.” 

“To be sure, I see it all,” said poor Nicholas, delighted 
with a thousand visionary ideas that his good spirits and his 
inexperience were conjuring up before him. “ Or suppose 
some young nobleman who is being educated at the Hall 
were to take a fancy to me, and get his father to appoint me 
his travelling tutor when he left, and when canae back 


10 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

from the continent, procured me some fine position. Eh! 
uncle? ” 

“Ah, to be sure! ” sneered Ralph. 

“ And who knows, but when he came to see me when I 
was settled (as he would of course), he might fall in love with 
Kate, who would be keeping my house, and — and — marry 
her, eh! uncle ? Who knows ? ” 

“Who, indeed! ” snarled Ralph. 

“ How happy we should be! ” cried Nicholas with en¬ 
thusiasm. “ The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of 
meeting again. Kate will be a beautiful woman, and I so 
proud to hear them say so, and mother so happy to be with 

us once again, and all these sad times forgotten, and-” 

The picture was too bright a one to bear; and Nicholas, 
fairly overpowered by it, smiled faintly, with his eyes full 
of tears and his lips trembling so that he could not speak. 

This simple family, born and bred in retirement and wholly 
unacquainted with what is called “ the world ” (a conven¬ 
tional phrase which often means all the rascals in it) mingled 
their tears together at the thought of their first separation. 


CHAPTER II 

A T the very core of London, in the heart of its business 
and animation, in the midst of a whirl of noise and 
motion, is the coachyard of the Saracen’s Head Inn, its portal 
guarded by two Saracen’s heads and shoulders. When you 
walk up the yard you will observe a long window with the 
words “Coffee Room” legibly painted above it. Looking out 
of that window, you would have seen, if you had gone at the 
right time, Mr. Wackford Squeers, with his hands in his 
pockets. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


11 


Mr. Squeers’s appearance was not prepossessing. He had 
but one eye, which was useful but decidedly not ornamental, 
being of a greenish grey, and in shape resembling the fanlight 
of a street door. The blank side of his face was much 
wrinkled and puckered up, which gave him a very sinister 
appearance, especially when he smiled, at which times his 
expression bordered closely on the villainous. His hair was 
very flat and shiny, save at the ends, where it was brushed 
stiffly up from a low protruding forehead, which assorted 
well with his harsh voice and coarse manner. He was about 
two or three and fifty, and a trifle below the average size. 
He wore a white neckerchief with long ends and a suit of 
scholastic black; but his coat sleeves being a great deal too 
long, and his trousers a great deal too short, he appeared ill 
at ease in his clothes, as if he were in a perpetual state of 
astonishment at finding himself so respectable. 

Mr. Squeers was standing in a small compartment called 
a “ box,” by one of the coffee-room, fireplaces. In a corner 
w r as a very small deal trunk, tied round with a scanty piece 
of cord; and on the trunk was perched a diminutive boy, 
with his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and his hands planted 
on his knees, who glanced timidly at the schoolmaster from 
time to time, with evident dread and apprehension. 

“ Half-past three,” muttered Mr. Squeers, turning from 
the window, and looking sulkily at the coffee-room clock. 
“ There will be nobody here today.” 

Much vexed by this reflection, Mr. Squeers looked at the 
little boy to see whether he was doing anything he could 
beat him for. As he happened not to be doing anything 
at all, he merely boxed his ears, and told him not to do it 
again. 

“ At midsummer,” muttered Mr. Squeers, “ I took down 
ten boys; ten twenties is two hundred pound. I go back 
at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, and have got only three 


12 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

— three oughts is ought — three twos is six — Sixty pound. 
What’s come of all the boys? What’s parents got in their 
heads? What does it all mean?” 

Here the little boy on the top of the trunk gave a violent 
sneeze. 

“ Halloa, sir! ” growled the schoolmaster, turning round. 
“What’s that, sir? ” 

“ Nothing, please sir,” said the little boy. 

“ Nothing, sir! ” exclaimed Mr. Squeers. 

“ Please, sir, I sneezed,” rejoined the boy, trembling till 
the trunk shook under him. 

“ Oh! sneezed, did you? ” retorted Mr. Squeers. “ Then 
what did you say ‘ nothing ’ for, sir? ” 

In default of a better answer to this question, the little 
boy screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and 
began to cry, wherefore Mr. Squeers knocked him off the 
trunk with a blow on one side of his face, and knocked him on 
again with a blow on the other. 

“ Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentle¬ 
man,” said Mr. Squeers, “ and then I’ll give you the rest. 

— Will you hold that noise, sir? ” 

“ Ye-ye-yes,” sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face. 

“ Then do so at once, sir, do you hear? ” 

As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening 
gesture and uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed 
his face harder, as if to keep the tears back; and, beyond al¬ 
ternately sniffing and choking, gave no further vent to his 
emotions. 

“ Mr. Squeers,” said the waiter, looking in at this juncture; 
“ here’s a gentleman asking for you at the bar.” 

“ Show the gentleman in, Richard,” replied Mr. Squeers, 
in a soft voice. “ Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you 
little scoundrel, or I’ll murder you when the gentleman 
goes.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


13 


The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a 
fierce whisper, when the stranger entered. Affecting not 
to see him, Mr. Squeers feigned to be intent upon mend¬ 
ing a pen and offering benevolent advice to his youthful 
pupil. 

“ My dear child,” said Mr. Squeers, “ all people have their 
trials. This early trial of yours that is fit to make your 
little heart burst, and your very eyes come out of your head 
with crying, what is it? Nothing; less than nothing. You 
are leaving your friends, but you will have a father in me, 
my dear, and a mother in Mrs. Squeers. At the delightful 
village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where 
youth are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with 
pocket money, provided with all necessaries-” 

“ It is the gentleman,” observed the stranger, stopping the 
schoolmaster in the rehearsal of his advertisement. “ Mr. 
Squeers, I believe, sir ? ” 

“ The same, sir,” said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption 
of surprise. 

“ The gentleman,” said the stranger, “ that advertised in 
the Times f ” 

“ — Morning Post, Chronicle, Herald, and Advertiser, re¬ 
garding the academy called Dotheboys Hall at the delightful 
village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire,” added 
Mr. Squeers. “ You come on business, sir, I see by my 
young friends. How do you do, my little gentlemen? And 
how do you do, sir ? ” With this salutation Mr. Squeers 
patted the heads of two hollow-eyed, small-boned little boys, 
whom the applicant had brought with him, and waited for 
further communications. 

“ I am in the oil and color way. My name is Snawley, 
sir.” 

Squeers inclined his head as much as to say, “And a re¬ 
markably pretty name, too.” 


14 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


The stranger continued. “ I have been thinking, Mr. 
Squeers, of placing my two boys at your school.” 

“ It is not for me to say so, sir, but I don’t think you 
could possibly do a better thing.” 

“ Hem! ” said the other. “ Twenty pounds per annum, 
I believe, Mr. Squeers?” 

“ Guineas,” 1 rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive 
smile. 

“ Pounds for two, I think, Mr. Squeers,” said Mr. Snawley, 
solemnly. 

“ I don’t think it could be done, sir,” replied Squeers, as if 
he had never considered the proposition before. “ Let me 
see; four fives is twenty, double that, and deduct the — well, 
a pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must 
recommend me, and make it up that way.” 

“ They are not great eaters,” said Mr. Snawley. 

“ Oh! that doesn’t matter at all. We don’t consider the 
boys’ appetites at our establishment.” This was strictly 
true; they did not. 

“ Every wholesome luxury that Yorkshire can afford,” 
continued Squeers; “every — in short, every comfort of a 
home that a boy could wish for will be theirs, Mr. Snawley.” 

“ I should wish their morals to be particularly attended 
to,” said Mr. Snawley. 

“ I am glad of that, sir,” replied the schoolmaster, drawing 
himself up. “ They have come to the right shop for morals, 
sir.” 

“ You are a moral man yourself,” said Mr. Snawley. 

“ I rather believe I am, sir,” replied Squeers. 

“ I have the satisfaction to know you are, sir,” said Mr. 
Snawley. “ I asked one of your references, and he said 
you were religious.” 

“ Well, sir, I hope I am a little in that line,” replied Squeers. 

1 A guinea is $5.11. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 15 

“I hope I am also,” rejoined the other. “Could I say a 
few words with you in the next box? ” 

“ By all means,” rejoined Squeers with a grin. “ My 
dears, will you speak to your new playfellow a minute or 
two ? That is one of my boys, sir. Belling his name is-” 

“ Oh, indeed? ” rejoined Mr. Snawley, looking at the poor 
little urchin as if he were some extraordinary natural curi¬ 
osity. 

“ He goes down with me tomorrow, sir,” said Squeers. 
“ That’s his luggage that he is sitting upon now. Each boy 
is required to bring two suits of clothes, six shirts, six pairs 
of stockings, two nightcaps, two pocket handkerchiefs, two 
pairs of shoes, two hats, and a razor.” 

“A razor! ” exclaimed Mr. Snawley, as they walked into 
the next box. “ What for? ” 

“ To shave with,” replied Squeers, in a slow and measured 
tone. 

There was not much in these three words, but there must 
have been something in the manner in which they were said 
to attract attention; for the schoolmaster and his companion 
looked steadily at each other for a few seconds, and then 
exchanged a very meaning smile. Snawley was a sleek, 
flat-nosed man, clad in sombre garments, and long black 
gaiters. 

“ Up to what age do you keep boys at your school then? ” 
he asked at length. 

“ Just as long as their friends make the quarterly pay¬ 
ments to my agent in town, or until such time as they run 
away,” replied Squeers. “Let us understand each other; 
I see we may safely do so.” 

“Yes,” replied Snawley. “The fact is, I am not their 
father, Mr. Squeers. I’m only their stepfather. You see 
I have married the mother. It’s expensive keeping boys at 
home, and as she has a little money in her own right, I am 


16 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


afraid (women are so very foolish, Mr. Squeers) that she 
might be led to squander it on them, which would be their 
ruin, you know.” 

“ I see,” returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his 
chair, and waving his hand. 

“ And this,” resumed Snawley, “ has made me anxious to 
put them to some school a good distance off, where there are 
no holidays — none of those ill-judged comings home twice 
a year that unsettle children’s minds so — and where they 
may rough it a little — you comprehend ? ” 

“ The payments regular, and no questions asked,” . said 
Squeers, nodding his head. 

“ That’s it, exactly,” rejoined the other. “ Morals strictly 
attended to, though.” 

“ Strictly,” said Squeers. 

“ Not too much writing home allowed, I suppose?” said 
the stepfather, hesitating. 

“ None, except a circular at Christmas, to say they never 
were so happy, and hope they may never be sent for,” re¬ 
joined Squeers. 

“ Nothing could be better,” said the stepfather, rubbing 
his hands. 

“ Then as we understand each other,” said Squeers, “ will 
you allow me to ask you whether you consider me a highly 
virtuous, exemplary, and well-conducted man in private life; 
and whether you place the strongest confidence in my in¬ 
tegrity, liberality, religious principles, and ability ? ” 

“ Certainly I do,” replied the stepfather, reciprocating the 
schoolmaster’s grin. 

“ Perhaps you won’t object to say that, if I make you a 
reference ? ” 

“ Not the least in the world.” 

“ That’s your sort! ” said Squeers, taking up a pen; “ this 
is doing business, and that’s what I like.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


17 


Having entered Mr. Snawley’s address, the schoolmaster 
had next to perform the still more agreeable office of entering 
the receipt of the first quarter’s payment in advance, which he 
had scarcely completed when another voice was heard in¬ 
quiring for Mr. Squeers. 

“ Here he is,” replied the schoolmaster; “ what is it? ” 

“ Only a matter of business, sir,” said Ralph Nickleby, 
presenting himself, closely followed by Nicholas. “ There 
was an advertisement of yours in the papers this morning ? ” 

“ There was, sir. This way, if you please,” said Squeers, 
who had by this time got back to the box by the fireplace. 
“ Won’t you be seated? ” 

“ Why, I think I will,” replied Ralph, suiting the action 
to the word, and placing his hat on the table before him. 
“ This is my nephew, sir, Mr. Nicholas Nickleby.” 

“ How do you do, sir? ” said Squeers. 

Nicholas bowed, said he was very well, and seemed very 
much astonished at the outward appearance of the proprietor 
of Dotheboys Hall. 

“ Perhaps you recollect me? ” said Ralph, looking narrowly 
at Squeers. 

“ You paid me a small account at each of my half-yearly 
visits to town for some years, I think, sir,” said Squeers. 

“ I did.” 

“ For the parents of a boy named Dorker, who unfor¬ 
tunately -” 

“-unfortunately died at Dotheboys Hall,” said Ralph, 

finishing the sentence. 

“I remember very well, sir,” rejoined Squeers. “Ah! 
Mrs. Squeers, sir, was as partial to that lad as if he had been 
her own; the attention, sir, that was bestowed upon that boy 
in his illness! Dry toast and warm tea offered him every 
night and morning when he couldn’t swallow anything — a 
candle in his bedroom on the very night he died — the best 


18 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


dictionary sent up for him to lay his head upon — I don’t 
regret it though. It is a pleasant thing to reflect that one did 
one’s duty by him.” 

Ralph smiled, as if he meant anything but smiling, and 
looked round at the strangers present. 

“ These are only some pupils of mine,” said Wackford 
Squeers, pointing to the little boy on the trunk and the two 
little boys on the floor, who had been staring at each other 
without uttering a word and writhing their bodies into most 
remarkable contortions, according to the custom of little 
boys when they first become acquainted. “ This gentleman, 
sir, is a parent who is kind enough to compliment me upon 
the course of education adopted at Dotheboys Hall, which 
is situated, sir, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near 
Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded, clothed, 
booked, washed, furnished with pocket money-” 

“ Yes, we know all about that, sir,” interrupted Ralph; 

“ it’s in the advertisement.” 

“ You are very right, sir; it is in the advertisement,” re¬ 
plied Squeers. 

“ And in the matter of fact beside,” interrupted Mr. Snaw- 
ley, “ I feel bound to assure you, sir, and I am proud to have 
this opportunity of assuring you, that I. consider Mr. Squeers 
a gentleman highly virtuous, exemplary, well conducted, 
and-” 

“ I make no doubt of it, sir,” interrupted Ralph, checking 
the torrent of recommendation; “ no doubt of it at all. 
Suppose we come to business ? ” 

“ With all my heart, sir,” rejoined Squeers. “ ‘ Never post¬ 
pone business,’ is the very first lesson we instill into our com¬ 
mercial pupils. Master Belling, my dear, always remember 
that; do you hear? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” repeated Master Belling. 

“ He recollects what it is, does he ? ” said Ralph. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


19 


“ Tell the gentleman,” said Squeers. 

“ Never,” repeated Master Belling. 

“Very good,” said Squeers; “go on.” 

“ Never,” repeated Master Belling again. 

“ Very good indeed,” said Squeers. “ Yes.” 

“ P,” suggested Nicholas, good-naturedly, giving the first 
letter of the word. 

“Perform — business! ” said Master Belling. “Never — 
perform — business! ” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Squeers, darting a withering look at 
the culprit. “You and I will perform a little business on 
our private account by and by.” 

“ And just now,” said Ralph, “ we had better transact our 
own, perhaps.” 

“ If you please,” said Squeers. 

“ Well,” resumed Ralph, “ it’s brief enough; soon broached; 
and I hope easily concluded. You have advertised for an 
able assistant, sir ? ” 

“ Precisely so,” said Squeers. 

“ And you really want one ? ” 

“ Certainly,” answered Squeers. 

“Here he is! My nephew Nicholas, hot from school, 
with everything he learnt there fermenting in his head, and 
nothing fermenting in his pocket, is just the man you want.” 

“ I am afraid,” said Squeers, perplexed with such an appli¬ 
cation from a youth of Nicholas’s figure, “ I am afraid the 
young man won’t suit me.” 

“Yes, he will,” said Ralph; “I know better. Don’t be 
cast down, sir; you will be teaching all the young noblemen in 
Dotheboys Hall in less than a week’s time, unless this gentle¬ 
man is more obstinate than I take him to be.” 

“ I fear, sir, that you object to my youth, and to my not 
being a master of arts?” said Nicholas, addressing Mr. 
Squeers. 


20 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ The absence of a college degree is an objection,” said 
Squeers. 

“ Look here,” said Ralph; “I’ll put this matter in its 
true light in two seconds.” 

“ If you’ll have the goodness,” rejoined Squeers. 

“ This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or 
a hobbledehoy, or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen 
or nineteen,” said Ralph. 

“ That I see,” observed the schoolmaster. 

“ So do I,” said Mr. Snawley, thinking it well to back his 
new friend. 

“ His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world, 
has no resources whatever, and wants something to do. I 
recommend him to this splendid establishment of yours as 
an opening which will lead him to fortune if he turns it to 
proper account. Do you see that? ” 

“ Everybody must see that,” replied Squeers. 

“ I do, of course,” said Nicholas, eagerly. 

“ He does, of course, you observe. If any caprice of 
temper should induce him to cast aside this golden oppor¬ 
tunity at any time, I shall not give any help to his mother 
or sister. Look at him, and think of the use he may be to 
you in half a dozen ways. Now the question is whether, for 
some time to come at all events, he won’t serve your purpose 
better than twenty of the kind of people you would get under 
ordinary circumstances. Isn’t that a question for considera¬ 
tion? ” 

“ Yes, it is,” said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph’s 
head with a nod of his own. 

“ Good,” rejoined Ralph. “ Let me have two words with 
you.” 

The two words were had apart. In a couple of minutes 
Mr. Wackford Squeers announced that Mr. Nicholas Nickleby 
was, from that moment, thoroughly nominated to, and in- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 21 

stalled in, the office of first assistant master at Dotheboys 
Hall. 

“ Your uncle’s recommendation has done it, Mr. Nickleby,” 
said Wackford Squeers. 

Nicholas, overjoyed at his success, shook his uncle’s hand 
warmly and could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the 
spot. 

“ He is an odd-looking man,” thought Nicholas. “ What 
of that ? Porson was an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor 
Johnson; all these bookworms are.” 

“ At eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Mr. Nickleby,” said 
Squeers, “ the coach starts. You must be here at a quarter 
before, as we take these boys with us.” 

“ Certainly, sir,” said Nicholas. 

“ And your fare down, I have paid,” growled Ralph. “ So 
you’ll have nothing to do but keep yourself warm.” 

Here was another instance of his uncle’s generosity! 
Nicholas felt his unexpected kindness so much that he could 
scarcely find words to thank him; indeed, he had not found 
half enough when they took leave of the schoolmaster and 
emerged from the Saracen’s Head gateway. 

“ I shall be here in the morning to see you fairly off,” said 
Ralph. “ No skulking! ” 

“ Thank you, sir, I never shall forget this kindness.” 

“ Take care you don’t. You had better go home now and 
pack up what you have got to pack. Do you think you 
could find your way to Golden Square first ? ” 

“ Certainly, I can easily inquire.” 

“ Leave these papers with my clerk, then,” said Ralph, pro¬ 
ducing a small parcel, “ and tell him to wait till I come home.” 

Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his 
worthy uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm¬ 
hearted old gentleman acknowledged by a growl, hastened 
away to execute his commission. 


22 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


He found Golden Square in due course. Mr. Noggs, who 
had stepped out for a minute or so to the public house, was 
opening the door with a latch key as he reached the steps. 

“ What’s that? ” inquired Noggs, pointing to the parcel. 

“ Papers from my uncle, and you’re to have the goodness 
to wait till he comes home, if you please.” 

“ Uncle! ” 

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Nicholas in explanation. 

“ Come in,” said Newman. 

Without another word he led Nicholas into the passage 
and thence into the official pantry at the end of it, where he 
thrust him into a chair; and mounting upon his high stool, 
he sat, with his arms hanging straight down by his sides, 
gazing fixedly upon him, as from a tower of observation. 

“ There is no answer,” said Nicholas, laying the parcel on 
a table beside him. 

Newman said nothing, but folding his arms and thrusting 
his head forward so as to obtain a nearer view of Nicholas’s 
face, scanned his features closely. 

“ No answer,” said Nicholas, speaking very loud, under 
the impression that Newman Noggs was deaf. 

Newman placed his hands upon his knees, and without 
uttering a syllable, continued the same close scrutiny of his 
companion’s face. 

This was such a very singular proceeding on the part of an 
utter stranger, and his appearance was so extremely peculiar 
that Nicholas, who had a keen sense of the ridiculous, could 
not refrain from breaking into a smile as he inquired whether 
Mr. Noggs had any commands for him. 

Noggs shook his head and sighed, upon which Nicholas 
rose and, remarking that he required no rest, bade him good 
morning. 

It was a great exertion for Newman Noggs, and nobody 
knows to this day how he ever came to make it, the other 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


23 


party being wholly unknown to him, but he drew a long 
breath and actually said, out loud, without once stopping, 
that if the young gentleman did not object to tell, he should 
like to know what his uncle was going to do for him. 

Nicholas had not the least objection in the world, but on 
the contrary was rather pleased to have an opportunity of 
talking on the subject which occupied his thoughts; so he 
sat down again and entered into a fervent and glowing 
description of all the honours and advantages to be derived 
from his appointment at the seat of learning, Dotheboys Hall. 

“ But, what’s the matter — are you ill?” said Nicholas, 
Suddenly breaking off, as his companion, after throwing 
himself into a variety of uncouth attitudes, thrust his hands 
under the stool and cracked his finger joints as if he were 
snapping all the bones in his hands. 

Newman Noggs made no reply, but went on shrugging his 
shoulders and cracking his finger joints; smiling horribly 
all the time and looking steadfastly at nothing out of the tops 
of his eyes, in a most ghastly manner. 

At first, Nicholas thought the mysterious man was in a 
fit, but on further consideration, decided that he was in 
liquor, under which circumstances he deemed it prudent to 
make off at once. He looked back when he had got the 
street door open. Newman Noggs was still indulging in the 
same extraordinary gestures, and the cracking of his fingers 
sounded louder than ever. 

CHAPTER III 

N ICHOLAS slept till six next morning; dreamed of 
home, or of what was home once — no matter which, 
for things that are changed or gone will come back as they 
used to be, thank God! in sleep — and rose quite brisk and 
gay. He wrote a few lines to say the good bye which he 


24 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

was afraid to pronounce himself, and laying them, with half 
his scanty stock of money, at his sister’s door, shouldered 
his box and crept softly downstairs. 

“ Is that you, Hannah? ” cried a voice from Miss La 
Creevy’s sitting room, whence shone the light of a feeble 
candle. 

“ It is I, Miss La Creevy,” said Nicholas, putting down the 
box and looking in. 

“ Bless us! ” exclaimed Miss La Creevy, starting, and 
putting her hand to her curl papers. “ You’re up very early, 
Mr. Nickleby.” 

“ So are you.” 

“ It’s the fine arts that bring me out of bed, Mr. Nickleby.” 

Miss La Creevy had got up early to put a fancy nose into 
a picture of a little boy, destined for his grandmother in the 
country, who was expected to bequeath him property if he 
was like the family. 

“ You don’t mean to say that you are really going all the 
way down into Yorkshire this cold winter’s weather, Mr. 
Nickleby? I heard something of it last night.” 

“ I do, indeed. Necessity is my driver.” 

“ Well, I am very sorry for it — that’s all I can say — as 
much on your mother’s and sister’s account as on yours. 
Your sister is a very pretty young lady, Mr. Nickleby, and 
that is an additional reason why she should have somebody 
to protect her. I persuaded her to give me a sitting or two 
for the street-door case. Ah! she’ll make a sweet miniature.” 
As Miss La Creevy spoke, she held up an ivory countenance 
interlaced with very perceptible sky-blue veins, and regarded 
it with so much complacency that Nicholas quite envied 
her. 

“ If you ever have an opportunity of showing Kate some 
little kindness,” said Nicholas, presenting his hand, “ I think 
you will.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


25 


“ Depend upon that/’ said the good-natured miniature 
painter; “ and God bless you, Mr. Nickleby, and I wish you 
well.” 

By the time he had found a man to carry his box, it was 
seven o’clock. He walked slowly on, a little in advance of the 
porter, and very probably with not half so light a heart as 
the man had, although he had no waistcoat to cover it with 
and had evidently been spending the night in a stable, and 
taking his breakfast at a pump. 

Nicholas regarded with curiosity and interest all the busy 
preparations for the coming day which every street and 
almost every house displayed. Thinking now and then 
that it seemed rather hard that so many people of all ranks 
and stations could earn a living in London when he should 
be compelled to journey so far away, he speedily arrived at 
the Saracen’s Head Inn. Having dismissed his attendant 
and seen his box safely deposited in the coach office, he looked 
into the coffee room in search of Mr. Squeers. 

That learned gentleman was found sitting at breakfast, 
with the three little boys before noticed, and two others, who 
had turned up by some lucky chance since the interview of 
the previous day, ranged in a row on the opposite seat. Mr. 
Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate 
of hot toast, and a cold round of beef; but he was at that 
moment intent on preparing breakfast for the five little 
boys. 

“ This is two penn’orth of milk, is it, waiter ? ” said Mr. 
Squeers, looking down into a large blue mug and slanting 
it gently, so as to get an accurate view of the quantity of liquid 
contained in it. 

“ That’s two penn’orth, sir,” replied the waiter. 

“ What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London! ” 
said Mr. Squeers, with a sigh. “ Just fill that mug up with 
lukewarrrj water, William, will you ? ” 


26 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ To the werry top, sir ? Why, the milk will be drownded.” 

“Never you mind that; serve it right for being so dear. 
You ordered that thick bread and butter for three, did you? ” 

“ Coming directly, sir.” 

“ You needn’t hurry yourself; there’s plenty of time. 
Conquer your passions, boys, and don’t be eager after wittles.” 
As he uttered this moral precept, Mr. Squeers took a large 
bite out of the cold beef, and recognized Nicholas. 

“Sit down, Mr. Nickleby; here we are, abreakfasting, 
you see! ” 

Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting except 
Mr. Squeers, but he bowed with all becoming reverence and 
looked as cheerful as he could. 

“Oh! that’s the milk and water, is it, William? Very 
good; don’t forget the bread and butter presently.” 

At this fresh mention of the bread and butter the five 
little boys looked very eager, and followed the waiter out 
with their eyes; meanwhile Mr. Squeers tasted the milk 
and water. 

“ Ah! ” said that gentleman, smacking his lips, “ here’s 
richness! Think of the many beggars and orphans in the 
streets that would be glad of this, little boys. A shocking 
thing hunger is, isn’t it, Mr. Nickleby? ” 

“ Very shocking, sir.” 

“ When I say number one,” pursued Mr. Squeers, putting 
the mug before the children, “ the boy on the left hand nearest 
the window may take a drink; and when I say number two, 
the boy next him will go in, and so till we come to number 
five, which is the last boy. Are you ready ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” cried all the little boys with great eagerness. 

“ That’s right,” said Squeers, calmly getting on with his 
breakfast, “ Keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue your 
appetites, my dears, and you’ve conquered human natur’. 
This i§ the way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr. Nickleby,” 


27 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

said the schoolmaster, turning to Nicholas, and speaking 
with his mouth very full of beef and toast. 

Nicholas murmured something — he knew not what — in 
re ply> & n d the little boys, dividing their gaze between the 
mug, the bread and butter (which had by this time arrived), 
and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took into his mouth, 
remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation. 

“ Thank God for a good breakfast,” said Squeers when 
he had finished. “ Number one may take a drink.” 

Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just 
drunk enough to make him wish for more when Mr. Squeers 
gave the signal for number two, who gave up at the same 
interesting moment to number three; and the process was 
repeated until the milk and water terminated with number 
five. 

“ And now,” said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread 
and butter for three into five portions, “ you had better look 
sharp with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in a minute 
or two, and then every boy leaves off.” 

Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to 
eat voraciously and in desperate haste, while the schoolmaster 
picked his teeth with a fork and looked smilingly on. In a 
very short time, the horn was heard. 

“ I thought it wouldn’t be long,” said Squeers, jumping up 
and producing a little basket from under the seat; “put 
what you haven’t had time to eat in here, boys! You’ll want 
it on the road! ” 

Nicholas was considerably startled by these very eco¬ 
nomical arrangements; but he had no time to reflect upon 
them, for the little boys had to be got up to the top of the 
coach, and their boxes had to be brought out and put in, and 
Mr. Squeers’s luggage was to be seen carefully deposited 
in the boot , 1 and all these offices were in his department. 

1 A box where baggage was carried. 


28 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

He was in the full heat and bustle of concluding these opera¬ 
tions, when his uncle, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, accosted him. 

“ Oh! here you are, sir! ” said Ralph. “ Here are your 
mother and sister, sir.” 

“ Where? ” cried Nicholas, looking hastily round. 

“ Here! ” replied his uncle. “ Having too much money and 
nothing at all to do with it, they were paying a hackney coach 
as I came up, sir.” 

“ We were afraid of being too late to see him before he 
went away from us,” said Mrs. Nickleby, embracing her son, 
heedless of the unconcerned lookers-on in the coachyard. 

“Very good, ma’am,” returned Ralph; “you’re the best 
judge, of course. I merely said that you were paying a hack¬ 
ney coach. I never pay a hackney coach, ma am. I never 
hire one. I haven’t been in a hackney coach of my own 
hiring for thirty years, and I hope I shan’t be for thirty 
more, if I live as long.” 

“ I should never have forgiven myself if I had not seen 
him,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “Poor dear boy — going away 
without his breakfast, too, because he feared to distress us! ” 

“ Mighty fine certainly,” said Ralph, with great testiness. 
“ When I first went to business, ma’am, I took a penny loaf 
and a ha’porth of milk for my breakfast as I walked to the 
city every morning. What do you say to that, maam? 
Breakfast! Bah! ” 

“ Now, Nickleby,” said Squeers, coming up at the moment 
buttoning his greatcoat; “ I think you’d better get up behind. 
I’m afraid of one of them boys falling off, and then there’s 
twenty pound a year gone.” 

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, touching her brother’s 
arm, “ who is that vulgar man? ” 

“ Eh! ” growled Ralph, whose quick ears had caught the 
inquiry. “ Do you wish to be introduced to Mr. Squeers, 
my dear ? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


29 


“That the schoolmaster! No, uncle. Oh no! ” replied 
Kate, shrinking back. 

“ I’m sure I heard you say as much, my dear,” retorted 
Ralph in his cold, sarcastic manner. “ Mr. Squeers, here’s 
my niece, Nicholas’s sister! ” 

“ Very glad to make your acquaintance, miss,” said Squeers, 
raising his hat an inch or two. “ I wish Mrs. Squeers took 
gals, and we had you for a teacher. I don’t know, though, 
whether she mightn’t grow jealous if we had. Ha! ha! ha! ” 

If the proprietor of Dotheboys Hall could have known what 
was passing in his assistant’s breast at that moment, he would 
have discovered, with some surprise, that he was as near being 
soundly pummelled as he had ever been in his life. Kate 
Nickleby, having a quicker perception of her brother’s 
emotions, led him gently aside. 

“ My dear Nicholas,” said the young lady, “ who is this 
man? What kind of place can it be that you are going 
to?” 

“ I hardly know, Kate,” replied Nicholas, pressing his 
sister’s hand. “ I suppose the Yorkshire folks are rather 
rough and uncultivated, that’s all.” 

“ But this person,” urged Kate. 

“ Is my employer, or master, or whatever the proper name 
may be,” replied Nicholas quickly, “ and I was an ass to take 
his coarseness ill. They are looking this way, and it is time 
I was in my place. Bless you, love, and good bye! Mother, 
look to our meeting again some day! Uncle, farewell! 
Thank you heartily for all you have done and all you mean to 
do. Quite ready, sir! ” 

With these hasty adieux, Nicholas mounted nimbly to his 
seat, and waved his hand as gallantly as if his heart went with 
it. 

At this moment, when the coachman and guard were com¬ 
paring notes for the last time before starting on the subject 


30 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

of the waybill, when porters were screwing out the last 
reluctant sixpences, itinerant newsmen making the last 
offer of a morning paper, and the horses giving the last im¬ 
patient rattle to their harness, Nicholas felt somebody pulling 
softly at his leg. He looked down, and there stood Newman 
Noggs, who pushed up into his hand a dirty letter. 

“ What’s this ? ” inquired Nicholas. 

“ Hush! ” rejoined Noggs, pointing to Mr. Ralph Nickleby, 
who was saying a few earnest words to Squeers, a short dis¬ 
tance off. “ Take it. Read it. Nobody knows. That’s 
all.” 

“Stop!” cried Nicholas. 

“ No,” replied Noggs. 

Nicholas cried “Stop,” again, but Newman Noggs was 
gone. 

A minute’s bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaying 
of the vehicle to one side, as the heavy coachman, and still 
heavier guard, climbed into their seats; a cry of all right, a 
few notes from the horn, a hasty glance of two sorrowful 
faces below, and the hard features of Mr. Ralph Nickleby — 
and the coach was gone. 

The little boys’ legs being too short to admit of their feet 
resting upon anything as they sat and the little boys’ bodies 
being consequently in imminent hazard of being jerked off 
the coach, Nicholas had enough to do, over the stones, to 
hold them on. 

The weather was intensely and bitterly cold; a great deal 
of snow fell from time to time; and the wind was intolerably 
keen. Mr. Squeers got down at almost every stage (wherever 
there was a bar) — to stretch his legs as he said. Since he 
always came back from such excursions with a very red nose 
and a hiccup, and composed himself to sleep directly, there 
is reason to suppose that he derived great benefit from the 
process. The little pupils having been stimulated with the 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


31 


remains of their breakfast and further invigorated by sundry 
small cups of a curious cordial carried by Mr. Squeers, which 
tasted very like toast-and-water put into a brandy bottle 
by mistake, went to sleep, woke, shivered, and cried as their 
feelings prompted. 

So the time went on for two days, until, about six o’clock 
on the evening of the second day, they arrived at the little 
settlement of Greta Bridge in Yorkshire. 


CHAPTER IV 


N ICHOLAS and the boys were left standing with the 
luggage in the road, to amuse themselves by looking at 
the coach as it changed horses, while Squeers ran into the 
tavern and went through the leg-stretching process at the 
bar. After some minutes, he returned, with his legs thor¬ 
oughly stretched, if the hue of his nose and an unusually short 
hiccup afforded any criterion. At the same time there came 
out of the yard a pusty pony chaise, and a cart, driven by two 
labouring men. 

“ Put the boys and the boxes into the cart,” said Squeers, 
rubbing his hands; “ and this young man and me will go on 
in the chaise. Get in, Nickleby.” 

Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeers with some difficulty in¬ 
ducing the pony to obey also, they started off, leaving the 
cart-load of infant misery to follow at leisure. 

“Are you cold, Nickleby?” inquired Squeers, after they 
had travelled some distance in silence. 

“ Rather, sir, I must say.” 

“ Well, I don’t find fault with that; it’s a long journey this 
weather.” 

“ Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir ? ” 


32 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ About three miles from here,” replied Squeers. “ But you 
needn’t call it a hall down here.” 

Nicholas coughed, as if he would like to know why. 

“ The fact is, it ain’t a hall,” observed Squeers drily. 

« Oh, indeed! ” said Nicholas, whom this piece of intelli¬ 
gence much astonished. 

“ No,” replied Squeers. “ We call it a hall up in London, 
because it sounds better, but they don’t know it by that 
name in these parts. A man may call his house an island if 
he likes; there’s no act of Parliament against that, I believe ? 

“ I believe not, sir,” rejoined Nicholas. 

Squeers eyed his companion slily at the conclusion of this 
little dialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and 
appeared in nowise disposed to volunteer any observations, 
contented himself with lashing the pony until they reached 
their journey’s end. 

“Jump out,” said Squeers. “Hallo there! Come and 
put this horse up. Be quick, will you! ” 

While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other im¬ 
patient cries, Nicholas had time to observe that the school 
was a long, cold-looking house, one story* high, with a few 
straggling outbuildings behind and a barn and stable ad¬ 
joining. After the lapse of a minute or two, the noise of 
somebody unlocking the yard gate was heard, and presently 
a tall lean boy with a lantern in his hand issued forth. 

“ Is that you, Smike? ” cried Squeers. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Then why the devil didn’t you come before? ” 

“ Please, sir, I fell asleep over the fire.” 

“ Fire! what fire ? Where’s there a fire ? ” 

“Only in the kitchen, sir. Missus said, as I was sitting 
up, I might go in there for a warm.” 

“Your Missus is a fool. You’d have been a deuced deal 
more wakeful in the cold, I’ll engage.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


33 


By this time Mr. Squeers had dismounted; and after order¬ 
ing the boy to see to the pony and to take care that he hadn’t 
any more corn that night, he told Nicholas to wait at the 
front door a minute, while he went round and let him in. 

A host of unpleasant misgivings which had been crowding 
upon Nicholas during the whole journey thronged into his 
mind with redoubled force when he was left alone. His great 
distance from home and the impossibility of reaching it, 
except on foot, should he feel ever so anxious to return, pre¬ 
sented itself to him in most alarming colours; and as he 
looked up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon 
the wild country round, covered with snow, he felt a de¬ 
pression of heart and spirit which he had never experienced 
before. 

“ Now then! ” cried Squeers, poking his head out at the 
front door. “ Where are you, Nickleby? ” 

“ Here, sir.” 

“ Come in. The wind blows in at this door fit to knock 
a man off his legs.” 

Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr. Squeers, having 
bolted the door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small 
parlour scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow map 
hung up against the wall, and a couple of tables, one of which 
bore some preparations for supper. 

They had not been in this apartment a couple of minutes 
when a female bounced into the room and, seizing Mr. Squeers 
by the throat, gave him two loud kisses; one close after the 
other, like a postman’s knock. The lady, who was of a large 
raw-boned figure, was about half a head taller than Mr. 
Squeers and was dressed in a dimity night jacket, with her 
hair in papers; she had also a dirty nightcap on, relieved by 
a yellow cotton handkerchief which tied it under the chin. 

“ How is my Squeery? ” said the lady in a playful manner, 
and a very hoarse voice. 


34 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Quite well, my love, how’s the cows? ” 

“ All right, every one of ’em.” 

“ And the pigs ? ” 

“ As well as they were when you went away.” 

“ Come; that’s a blessing,” said Squeers, pulling off his 
greatcoat. “ The boys are all as they were, I suppose? ” 

“ Oh, yes, they’re well enough,” replied Mrs. Squeers, 
snappishly. “ That young Pitcher’s had a fever. 

“ No! Darn that boy, he’s always at something of that 
sort.” 

“ Never was such a boy, I do believe. Whatever he has 
is always catching too. I say it’s obstinacy, and nothing 
shall ever convince me that it isn’t. I’d beat it out of him, 
and I told you that, six months ago.” 

11 So you did, my love. We’ll try what can be done. 

Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood, 
awkwardly enough, in the middle of the room, not very well 
knowing whether he was expected to retire into the passage 
or to remain where he was. He was now relieved from his 
perplexity by Mr. Squeers. 

“ This is the new young man, my dear,” said that gentle¬ 
man. 

“ Oh,” replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas 
and eyeing him coldly from top to toe. 

** He’ll take a meal with us tonight,” said Squeers, “ and 
go among the boys tomorrow morning. You can give him 
a shakedown here tonight, can’t you? ” 

“ We must manage it somehow; you don’t much mind how 
you sleep, I suppose, sir? ” 

“ No, indeed, I am not particular.” 

“ That’s lucky,” said Mrs. Squeers. And as the lady’s 
humour was considered to lie chiefly in retort, Mr. Squeers 
laughed heartily, and seemed to expect that Nicholas should 
do the same. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


35 


After some further conversation between the master and 
mistress relative to the success of Mr. Squeers’s trip, and the 
people who had paid, and the people who had made default 
in payment, a young servant girl brought in a Yorkshire pie 
and some cold beef, which being set upon the table, the boy 
Smike appeared with a jug of ale. 

Mr. Squeers was emptying his greatcoat pockets of letters 
to different boys and other small documents which he had 
brought down in them. The boy glanced, with an anxious 
and timid expression, at the papers, as if with a sickly hope 
that one among them might relate to him. The look was a 
very painful one and went to Nicholas’s heart at once, for it 
told a long and very sad history. 

It induced him to consider the boy more attentively, and 
he was surprised to observe the extraordinary mixture of 
garments which formed his dress. Although he could not 
have been less than eighteen or nineteen years old and was 
tall for that age, he wore a suit such as is usually put upon 
very little boys and which, though most absurdly short in 
the arms and legs, was quite wide enough for his very thin 
body. He had on a very large pair of boots, which might 
have been once worn by some stout farmer, but were now 
too patched and tattered for a beggar. Heaven knows how 
long he had been there, but he still wore the same linen which 
he had first taken down; for round his neck was a tattered 
child’s frill, only half concealed by a coarse, man’s neckerchief. 
He was lame; and as he feigned to be busy in arranging the 
table, glanced at the letters with a look so keen, and yet so 
dispirited and hopeless, that Nicholas could hardly bear to 
watch him. 

“ What are you bothering about there, Smike ? ” cried 
Mrs. Squeers; “ let the things alone, can’t you? ” 

“ Eh! ” said Squeers, looking up. “ Oh! it’s you, is it? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the youth, pressing his hands together, 


36 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

as though to control, by force, the nervous wandering of his 
fingers; “ is there-” 

“ Well! ” said Squeers. 

“ Have you — did anybody — has nothing been heard 
about me ? ” 

“ Devil a bit,” replied Squeers testily. 

The lad withdrew his eyes and, putting his hand to his face, 
moved towards the door. 

“ Not a word,” resumed Squeers, “and never will be. 
Now this is a pretty sort of thing, isn’t it, that you should 
have been left here, all these years, and no money paid after 
the first six — nor no notice taken, nor no clue to be got who 
you belong to ? It’s a pretty sort of thing that I should have 
to feed a great fellow like you and never hope to get one 
penny for it, isn’t it ? ” 

The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an 
effort to recollect something and then, looking vacantly at 
his questioner, gradually broke into a smile, and limped away; 

“ I’ll tell you what, Squeers,” remarked his wife as the door 
closed, “ I think that young chap’s turning silly.” 

“ i hope not, for he’s a handy fellow out of doors, and worth 
his meat and drink, anyway. I should think he’d have wit 
enough for us, though, if he was. But come, lets have 
supper, for I am hungry and tired, and want to go to bed.” 

This reminder brought in an exclusive steak for Mr. 
Squeers, who speedily proceeded t© do it ample justice. 
Nicholas drew up his chair, but his appetite was effectually 
taken away. 

“ How’s the steak, Squeers?” said Mrs. S. 

“ Tender as a lamb. Have a bit.” 

“ I couldn’t eat a morsel. What’ll the young man take, my 
dear? ” 

“ Whatever he likes that’s present,” rejoined Squeers, in 
a most unusual burst of generosity. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 37 

“What do you say, Mr. Knuckleby?” inquired Mrs. 
Squeers. 

“ I’ll take a little of the pie, if you please, a very little, 
for I’m not hungry.” 

“ Well, it’s a pity to cut the pie if you’re not hungry, isn’t 
it? ” said Mrs. Squeers. “ Will you try a bit of the beef? ” 

“Whatever you please,” replied Nicholas, abstractedly; 
“ it’s all the same to me.” 

Mrs. Squeers looked vastly gracious on receiving this reply, 
and nodding to Squeers, as much as to say that she was glad 
to find the young man knew his station, assisted Nicholas 
to a slice of meat with her own fair hands. 

“ Uncommon juicy steak that,” said Squeers, as he laid 
down his knife and fork, after plying it, in silence, for some 
time. 

“ It’s prime meat,” rejoined his lady, “I bought a good large 
piece of it myself on purpose for-” 

“For what! ” exclaimed Squeers hastily. “Not for the 
— boys ? ” 

“ No, no; not for them,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers; “ on pur¬ 
pose for you against you came home. Lor! you didn’t think 
I could have made such a mistake as that.” 

“ Upon my word, my dear, I didn’t know what you were 
going to say,” said Squeers, who had turned pale. 

“ You needn’t make yourself uncomfortable,” remarked 
his wife, laughing heartily. “ To think that I should be such 
a noddy! Well! ” 

This part of the conversation was unintelligible to Nicholas, 
but Squeers frequently purchased, for the boys to eat, the 
bodies of cattle who had died from sickness, and he was afraid 
of having unintentionally devoured some choice morsel in¬ 
tended for the young gentlemen. 

Supper being over and removed by a small servant girl 
with a hungry eye, Mrs. Squeers retired to lock it up, and 


38 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


also to take into safe custody the clothes of the five boys 
who had just arrived and who were half-way up the trouble¬ 
some flight of steps which leads to death’s door, in conse¬ 
quence of exposure to the cold. They were then regaled with 
a light supper of porridge and stowed away, side by side, in 
a small bedstead, to warm each other, and dream of a sub¬ 
stantial meal with something hot after it, if their fancies set 
that way, which it is not at all improbable they did. 

At length, Mr. Squeers yawned fearfully and said that it 
was high time to go to bed; upon which signal, Mrs. Squeers 
and the girl dragged in a small straw mattress and a couple 
of blankets, and arranged them into a couch for Nicholas. 

“ We’ll put you into your regular bedroom tomorrow, 
Nickleby,” said Squeers. “Let me see! Who sleeps in 
Brooks’s bed, my dear? ” 

“ In Brooks’s,” said Mrs. Squeers, pondering. “ There’s 
Jennings, little Bolder, Graymarsh, and what’s his name.” 

“ So there is,” rejoined Squeers. “ Yes! Brooks is full.” 

“ Full! ” thought Nicholas. “ I should think he was.” 

“ There’s a place somewhere, I know,” said Squeers; “ but 
I can’t at this moment call to mind where it is. However, 
we’ll have that all settled tomorrow. Good night, Nickleby. 
Seven o’clock in the morning, mind.” 

“ I shall be ready, sir, good night.” 

“ I’ll come in myself and show you where the well is,” said 
Squeers. “ You’ll always find a little bit of soap in the 
kitchen window; that belongs to you.” 

Nicholas opened his eyes, but not his mouth; and Squeers 
was again going away, when he once more turned back. 

“ I don’t know, I am sure, whose towel to put you on ; but 
if you’ll make shift with something tomorrow morning, Mrs. 
Squeers will arrange that, in the course of the day. My dear, 
don’t forget.” 

“ I’ll take care, and mind you take care, young man, and 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


39 


get first wash. The teacher ought always to have it; but they 
get the better of him if they can,” said Mrs. Squeers. 

Nicholas, being left alone, took half a dozen turns up and 
down the room in a condition of much agitation and excite¬ 
ment ; but growing gradually calmer, sat down in a chair and 
resolved that, come what might, he would endeavour, for a 
time, to bear whatever wretchedness might be in store for 
him, and that remembering the helplessness of his mother 
and sister, he would give his uncle no plea for deserting them 
in their need. Good resolutions seldom fail of producing 
some good effect in the mind from which they spring. He 
grew less desponding, and — so sanguine and buoyant is 
youth — even hoped that affairs at Dotheboys Hall might yet 
prove better than they promised. 

He was preparing for bed, with something like renewed 
cheerfulness, when a sealed letter fell from his coat pocket. 
In the hurry of leaving London, it had escaped his attention, 
and had not occurred to him since, but it at once brought 
back to him the recollection of the mysterious behaviour of 
Newman Noggs. 

“Dear me!” said Nicholas; “what an extraordinary 
hand! ” It was directed to himself, was written upon very 
dirty paper, and in such cramped and crippled writing as 
to be almost illegible. After great difficulty and much 
puzzling, he contrived to read as follows: 


My Dear Young Man: 

“ I know the world. Your father did not, or he would not 
have done me a kindness when there was no hope of re¬ 
turn. You do not, or you would not be bound on such a 
journey. 

If ever you want a shelter in London (don’t be angry 
at this, I once thought I never should), they know where I 
live, at the sign of the Crown, in Silver Street, Golden 
Square. It is at the corner of Silver Street and James 


40 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Street, with a bar door both ways. You can come at night. 
Once, nobody was ashamed — never mind that. It’s all 
over. 

Excuse errors. I should forget how to wear a whole coat 
now. I have forgotten all my old ways. My spelling may 
have gone with them. 


Newman Noggs. 


It may be a very undignified circumstance to record, but 
after he had folded this letter and placed it in his pocket- 
book, Nicholas Nickleby’s eyes were dimmed with a moisture 
that might have been taken for tears. 


CHAPTER V 


RIDE of two hundred miles in severe weather is one 
of the best softeners of a hard bed. Perhaps it is even 



a sweetener of dreams, for those which hovered over the rough 
couch of Nicholas and whispered their airy nothings in his 
ear were of an agreeable and happy kind. He was making 
his fortune very fast indeed, when the faint glimmer of a 
candle shone before his eyes, and a voice he had no difficulty 
in recognizing as Mr. Squeers’s, admonished him that it was 
time to rise. 

“ Past seven, Nickleby.” 

“ Has morning come already ? ” asked Nicholas, sitting up 
in bed. 

“Ah! that has it, and ready iced, too. Now, Nickleby, 
come; tumble up, will you? ” 

Nicholas needed no further admonition, but tumbled up 
at once, and proceeded to dress himself by the light of the 
taper which Mr. Squeers carried in his hand. 

“ Here’s a pretty go,” said that gentleman; “ the pump’s 
froze.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


41 


“ Indeed! ” said Nicholas, not much interested in the in¬ 
telligence. 

“ Yes, you can’t wash yourself this morning.” 

“ Not wash myself! ” 

“ No, not a bit of it, so you must be content with giving 
yourself a dry polish, till we break the ice in the well, and 
can get a bucket out for the boys. Don’t stand staring at 
me, but look sharp, will you ? ” 

Offering no further observation, Nicholas huddled on his 
clothes. Squeers meanwhile opened the shutters and blew 
the candle out, when the voice of his amiable wife was heard 
in the passage, demanding admittance. 

“ Come in, my love,” said Squeers. 

Mrs. Squeers came in, still habited in the night jacket 
which had displayed the symmetry of her figure on the previ¬ 
ous night, and further ornamented with a beaver bonnet of 
some antiquity, which she wore on top of the nightcap. 

“ Drat the things,” said the lady, opening the cupboard; 
“ I can’t find the school spoon anywhere.” 

“ Never mind it, my dear,” observed Squeers in a soothing 
manner; “it’s of no consequence.” 

“No consequence, why how you talk! Isn’t it brimstone 
morning ? ” 

“I forgot, my dear,” rejoined Squeers; “yes, it certainly 
is. We purify the boys’ blood now and then, Nickleby.” 

“ Purify fiddlesticks’ ends,” said his lady. “ Don’t think, 
young man, that we go to expense of flowers of brimstone 
and molasses just to purify them, because, if you think we 
carry on the business in that way, you’ll find yourself mis¬ 
taken, and so I tell you plainly.” 

“ My dear,” said Squeers frowning. 

“Oh! nonsense,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers. “If the young 
man comes to be a teacher here, let him understand at once 
that we don’t want any foolery about the boys. They have 


42 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


the brimstone and molasses partly because, if they hadn’t 
something or other in the way of medicine they’d be always 
ailing and giving a world of trouble, and partly because it 
spoils their appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and 
dinner. So it does them good and us good at the same time, 
and that’s fair enough, I’m sure.” 

Having given this explanation, Mrs. Squeers put her hand 
into the closet and instituted a stricter search after the 
spoon, in which Mr. Squeers assisted. 

A vast deal of searching and rummaging ensued. This 
proving fruitless, Smike was called in. He was pushed by 
Mrs. Squeers and boxed by Mr. Squeers, which course of 
treatment, brightening his intellect, enabled him to suggest 
that possibly Mrs. Squeers might have the spoon in her 
pocket, which turned out to be the case. As Mrs. Squeers 
had previously protested, however, that she was quite cer¬ 
tain she had not got it, Smike received another box on the 
ear for presuming to contradict his mistress, together with a 
promise of a sound thrashing if he were not more respectful 
in future. 

“ A most invaluable woman, that, Nickleby,” said Squeers 
when his wife had hurried away, pushing the drudge before 
her. 

“ Indeed, sir! ” observed Nicholas. 

“ I don’t know her equal,” said Squeers; “ I do not know 
her equal. That woman, Nickleby, is always the same — 
always the same bustling, lively, saving creetur that you see 
her now.” 

Nicholas sighed involuntarily at the thought of the agree¬ 
able domestic prospect thus opened to him, but Squeers 
was fortunately too much occupied with his own reflections 
to perceive it. 

“ It’s my way to say, when I am up in London,” continued 
Squeers, “ that to them boys she is a mother. But she is 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


43 


more than a mother to them — ten times more. She does 
things for them boys, Nickleby, that I don’t believe half the 
mothers going would do for their own sons.” 

“ I should think they would not, sir.” 

“ But come,” said Squeers, interrupting the progress of 
some thoughts to this effect in the mind of his usher, “ let’s 
go to the schoolroom; and lend me a hand with my school 
coat, will you? ” 

Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old jacket, which 
he took down from a peg in the passage; and Squeers, arming 
himself with his cane, led the way across a yard to a door in 
the rear of the house. 

“ There,” said the schoolmaster as they stepped in together, 
“ this is our shop, Nickleby! ” 

It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many 
objects to attract attention that, at first, Nicholas stared 
about him, really without seeing anything at all. By degrees, 
however, the place resolved itself into a bare and dirty room, 
with a couple of windows, whereof a tenth part might be 
of glass, the remainder being stopped up with old copybooks 
and paper. There were a couple of long old rickety desks, 
cut and notched, and inked, and damaged in every possible 
way; two or three benches, a detached desk for Squeers, and 
another for his assistant. The ceiling was supported, like 
that of a barn, by crossbeams and rafters; and the w T alls 
were so stained and discoloured that it was impossible to tell 
whether they had ever been touched with paint or white¬ 
wash. 

But the pupils — the young noblemen! How the last 
faint traces of hope, the remotest glimmering of any good 
to be derived from his efforts in this den, faded from the 
mind of Nicholas as he looked in dismay around! Pale and 
haggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with the 
countenances of old men, deformities with irons upon their 


44 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

limbs, boys of stunted growth, and others whose long meagre 
legs would hardly bear their stooping bodies, all crowded on 
the view together. With every kindly sympathy and affec¬ 
tion blasted at its birth, with every young and healthy feeling 
flogged and starved down, with every revengeful passion that 
can fester in swollen hearts eating its evil way to their core 
in silence, what an incipient hell was breeding here! 

And vet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque 
features, which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas 
might have provoked a smile. Mrs. Squeers stood at one of 
the desks, presiding over an immense basin of sulphur and 
molasses of which delicious compound she administered a 
large installment to each boy in succession. She was using 
for the purpose a common wooden spoon, which might have 
been originally manufactured for some gigantic top, and which 
widened every young gentleman’s mouth considerably; they 
being all obliged, under heavy corporal penalties, to take 
in the whole of the bowl at a gasp. In another corner, 
huddled together for companionship, were the little boys 
who had arrived on the preceding night, three of them in very 
large leather breeches and two in old trousers, a something 
tighter fit than drawers are usually worn. At no great dis¬ 
tance from these was seated the juvenile son and heir of Mr. 
Squeers — a striking likeness of his father — kicking, with 
great vigour, under the hands of Smike, who was fitting upon 
him a pair of new boots that bore a most suspicious re¬ 
semblance to those which the least of the little boys had 
worn on the journey down — as the little boy himself seemed 
to think, for he was regarding the appropriation with a look 
of most rueful amazement. Besides these, there was a long 
row of boys waiting, with countenances of no pleasant antici¬ 
pation, to be treacled; and another file, who had just escaped 
from the infliction, making a variety of wry mouths indicative 
of anything but satisfaction. The whole were attired in such 



Of which delicious compound she administered a large 
installment to each boy in succession. 


45 






















































46 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

motley, ill-sorted, extraordinary garments, as would have 
been irresistibly ridiculous, but for the foul appearance of 
dirt, disorder, and disease with which they were associated. 

“ Now,” said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his 
cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump out of their 
boots, “ is that physicking over? ” 

“Just over!” said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in 
her hurry, and tapping the crown of his head with the wooden 
spoon to restore him. “Here, you Smike; take away now. 
Look sharp! ” 

Smike shuffled out with the basin; and Mrs. Squeers, having 
called up a little boy with a curly head and wiped her hands 
upon it, hurried out after him into a species of wash-house, 
where there was a small fire and a large kettle, together with 
a number of little wooden bowls which were arranged upon 
a board. 

Into these bowls, Mrs. Squeers, assisted by the hungry 
servant, poured a brown composition which looked like 
diluted pincushions without the covers, and was called por¬ 
ridge. A minute wedge of brown bread was inserted in each 
bowl; and when they had eaten their porridge by means of 
the bread, the boys-ate the bread itself, and had finished their 
breakfast; whereupon Mr. Squeers said, in a solemn voice, 
“ For what we have received, may the Lord make us truly 
thankful! ” — and went away to his own. 

Nicholas distended his stomach with a bowl of porridge, 
for much the same reason which induces some savages to 
swallow earth — lest they should be hungry when there is 
nothing to eat. Having further disposed of a slice of bread 
and butter, alloted to him in virtue of his office, he sat himself 
down to wait for school time. 

He observed how silent and sad the boys all seemed to be. 
There was none of the noise and clamour of a schoolroom, 
none of its boisterous play or hearty mirth. The children sat 


47 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

crouching and shivering together and seemed to lack the 
spirit to move about. The only pupil who evinced the 
slightest tendency towards locomotion or playfulness was 
Master Squeers; and since his chief amusement was to tread 
upon the other boys’ toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits 
was rather disagreeable than otherwise. 

After some half-hour’s delay, Mr. Squeers reappeared, and 
the boys took their places and their books, of which the 
average might be about one to eight learners. A few minutes 
having elapsed, during which Mr. Squeers looked very pro¬ 
found, as if he had a perfect apprehension of what was inside 
all the books, and could say every word of their contents 
by heart if he only chose to take the trouble, that gentleman 
called up the first class. 

Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front 
of the schoolmaster’s desk, half a dozen scarecrows, out at 
knees and elbows, one of whom placed a torn and filthy 
book beneath his learned eye. 

“ This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy, 
Nickleby,” said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside 
him. “ We’ll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to you. 
Now, then, where’s the first boy? ” 

“ Please, sir, he’s cleaning the back parlour window,” said 
the temporary head of the philosophical class. 

“ So he is, to be sure,” rejoined Squeers. “ We go upon 
the practical mode of teaching, Nickleby; the regular educa¬ 
tion system. C-l-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright, 
to scour. W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a casement. When 
the boy knows this out of the book, he goes and does it. It’s 
just the same principle as the use of the globes. Where’s the 
second boy ? ” 

" Please, sir, he’s weeding the garden,” replied a small voice. 

“ To be sure,” said Squeers, by no means disconcerted. 
“ So he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney^ 


48 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


noun substantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has 
learned that bottinney means a knowledge of plants, he goes 
and knows ’em. That’s our system, Nickleby; what do 
you think of it ? ” 

“ It’s a very useful one, at any rate,” answered Nicholas. 

“ I believe you,” rejoined Squeers, not remarking the 
emphasis of his usher. “ Third boy, what’s a horse? ” 

“ A beast, sir,” replied the boy. . 

“ So it is,” said Squeers. “ Ain’t it, Nickleby? ” 

“ I believe there is no doubt of that, sir,” answered Nicholas. 

“ Of course there isn’t,” said Squeers. “ A horse is a 
quadruped, and quadruped’s Latin for beast, as everybody 
that’s gone through the grammar knows, or else where’s 
the use of having grammars at all ? ” 

“Where, indeed! ” said Nicholas abstractedly. 

“ As you’re perfect in that,” resumed Squeers, turning to 
the boy, “ go and look after my horse, and rub him down 
well, or I’ll rub you down. The rest of the class go and draw 
water up, till somebody tells you to leave off, for it’s washing 
day tomorrow, and they want the boilers filled.” 

So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments in 
practical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas with a look, half¬ 
cunning and half-doubtful, as if he were not altogether cer¬ 
tain what he might think of him by this time. 

“ That’s the way we do it, Nickleby,” he said, after a pause. 

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was 
scarcely perceptible, and said he saw it was. 

“ And a very good way it is, too,” said Squeers. “ Now, 
just take them fourteen little boys and hear them some read¬ 
ing, because, you know, you must begin to be useful. Idling 
about here won’t do.” 

Mr. Squeers said this, as if it had suddenly occurred to him, 
either that he must not say too much to his assistant, or that 
his assistant did not say enough to him in praise of the 


49 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

establishment. The children were arranged in a semi-circle 
around the new master, and he was soon listening to their 
dull, drawling, hesitating recital of those stories of engrossing 
interest which are to be found in the more antiquated spelling 
books. 

In this exciting occupation, the morning lagged heavily on. 
At one o’clock, the boys, having previously had their appetites 
thoroughly taken away by stir-about and potatoes, sat down 
in the kitchen to some hard salt beef, of which Nicholas was 
graciously permitted to take his portion to his own solitary 
desk, to eat it there in peace. After this, there was another 
hour of crouching in the schoolroom and shivering with cold, 
and then school began again. 

It was Mr. Squeers’s custom to call the boys together and 
make a sort of report, after every half-yearly visit to London, 
regarding the relations and friends he had seen, the news he 
had heard, the letters he had brought down, the bills which 
had been paid, the accounts which had been left unpaid, and 
so forth. This solemn proceeding always took place in the 
afternoon of the day succeeding his return; perhaps, because 
the boys acquired strength of mind from the suspense of the 
morning, or possibly, because Mr. Squeers himself acquired 
greater sternness and inflexibility from certain warm pota¬ 
tions in which he was wont to indulge after his early dinner. 
Be this as it may, the boj^s were recalled from house window, 
garden, stable, and cow yard, and the school was assembled 
in full conclave, when Mr. Squeers, with a small bundle of 
papers in his hand, and Mrs. S. following with a pair of canes, 
entered the room and proclaimed silence. 

“ Let any boy speak a word without leave,” said Mr. 
Squeers mildly, “and I’ll take the skin off his back.” 

This special proclamation had the desired effect, and a 
deathlike silence immediately prevailed, in the midst of 
which Mr. Squeers went on to say: 


50 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Boys, IVe been to London, and have returned to my 
family and' you, as strong and well as ever.” 

According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble 
cheers at this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers! Sighs 
of extra strength with the chill on. 

“ I have seen the parents of some boys,” continued Squeers, 
turning over his papers, “ and they’re so glad to hear how 
their sons are getting on that there’s no prospect at all of 
their going away, which of course is a very pleasant thing to 
reflect upon, for all parties.” 

Two or three hands went to two or three eyes when Squeers 
said this, but the greater part of the young gentlemen, having 
no particular parents to speak of, were wholly uninterested 
in the thing one way or other. 

“ I have had disappointments to contend against,” said 
Squeers, looking very grim; “ Bolder’s father was two pound 
ten short. Where is Bolder ? ” 

“ Here he is, please, sir,” rejoined twenty officious voices. 
Boys are very like men, to be sure. 

“ Come here, Bolder,” said Squeers. 

An unhealthy-looking boy, with warts all over his hands, 
stepped from his place to the master’s desk, and raised his 
eyes imploringly to Squeer’s face, his own, quite white from 
the rapid beating of his heart. 

“ Bolder,” said Squeers, speaking very slowly, for he was 
considering, as the saying goes, where to have him. “ Bolder, 
if your father thinks that because — why, what’s this, sir? ” 

As Squeers spoke, he caught up the boy’s hand by the cuff 
of his jacket, and surveyed it with an edifying aspect of 
horror and disgust. 

“ What do you call this, sir? ” demanded the schoolmaster, 
administering a cut with the cane to expedite the reply. 

“ I can’t help it, indeed, sir,” rejoined the boy, crying. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 51 

“ They will come; it’s the dirty work, I think, sir — at least 
I don’t know what it is, sir, but it’s not my fault.” 

“ Bolder,” said Squeers, tucking up his wristbands and 
moistening the palm of his right hand to get a good grip of the 
cane, “ you are an incorrigible young scoundrel, and as the 
last thrashing did you no good, we must see what another 
will do towards beating it out of you.” 

With this, and wholly disregarding a piteous cry for mercy, 
Mr. Squeers fell upon the boy and caned him soundly, not 
leaving off, indeed, until his arm was tired out. 

“There,” said Squeers, when he had quite done; “rub 
away as hard as you like, you*won’t rub that off in a hurry. 
Oh! you won’t hold that noise, won’t you? Put him out, 
Smike.” 

The drudge knew better from long experience than to 
hesitate about obeying, so he bundled the victim out by a 
side door; and Mr. Squeers perched himself again on his 
own stool, supported by Mrs. Squeers, who occupied another 
at his side. 

“ Now let us see,” said Squeers, “ a letter for Cobbey. 
Stand up, Cobbey.” 

Another boy stood up and eyed the letter very hard while 
Squeers made a mental abstract of the same. 

“ Oh! ” said Squeers: “ Cobbey’s grandmother is dead, and 
his uncle John has took to drinking, which is all the news 
his sister sends, except eighteenpence, which will just pay 
for that broken square of glass. Mrs. Squeers, my dear, will 
you take the money ? ” 

The worthy lady pocketed the eighteenpence with a most 
businesslike air, and Squeers passed on to the next boy, as 
coolfy as possible. 

“ Graymarsh,” said Squeers. “ He’s the next. Stand up, 
Graymarsh.” 


52 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Another boy stood up, and the schoolmaster looked over the 
letter as before. 

“ Graymarsh’s maternal aunt,” said Squeers, when he had 
possessed himself of the contents, “ is very glad to hear he’s 
so well and happy, and sends her respectful compliments to 
Mrs. Squeers, and thinks she must be an angel. She like¬ 
wise thinks Mr. Squeers is too good for this world, but hopes 
he may long be spared to carry on the business. Would have 
sent the two pairs of stockings as desired, but is short of 
money, so forwards a tract instead, and hopes Graymarsh 
will put his trust in Providence. Hopes, above all, that he 
will study in everything to please Mr. and Mrs. Squeers, and 
look upon them as his only friends; and that he will love 
Master Squeers; and not object to sleeping five in a bed, 
which* no Christian should. Ah! ” said Squeers, folding 
it up, “ a delightful letter. Very affecting indeed.” 

Squeers proceeded with the business by calling out 
“Mobbs,” whereupon another boy rose, and Graymarsh re¬ 
sumed his seat. 

“ Mobbs’s stepmother,” said Squeers, “ took to her bed on 
hearing that he wouldn’t eat fat, and has been very ill ever 
since. She wishes to know, by an early post, where he ex¬ 
pects to go if he quarrels with his vittles and with what 
feelings he could turn up his nose at the cow’s liver broth, 
after his good master had asked a blessing on it. This was 
told her in the London newspapers — not by Mr. Squeers, 
for he is too kind and too good to set anybody against any¬ 
body— and it has vexed her so much, Mobbs can’t think. 
She is sorry to find he is discontented, which is sinful and 
horrid, and hopes Mr. Squeers will flog him into a happier 
state of mind; with this view, she has also stopped his half¬ 
penny a week pocket money, and given a double-bladed knife 
with a corkscrew in it to the missionaries, which she had 
bought on purpose for him.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


53 


“ A sulky state of feeling/’ said Squeers, after a terrible 
pause, during which he had moistened the palm of his right 
hand again, “ won’t do. Cheerfulness and contentment must 
be kept up. Mobbs, come to me! ” 

Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes 
in anticipation of good cause for doing so; and he soon after¬ 
wards retired by the side door, with as good cause as a boy 
need have. 

Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collec¬ 
tion of letters; some enclosing money, which Mrs. Squeers 
“took care of”; and others referring to small articles of 
apparel as caps and so forth, all of which the same lady stated 
to be too large or too small, and calculated for nobody but 
young Squeers, who would appear indeed to have had the 
most accommodating limbs, since everything that came into 
the school fitted him to a nicety. His head in particular 
must have been singularly elastic, for hats and caps of all 
dimensions were alike to him. 

This business despatched, a few slovenly lessons were 
performed, and Squeers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas 
to take care of the boys in the schoolroom, which was very 
cold, and where a meal of bread and cheese was served out 
shortly after dark. 

There was a small stove at that corner of the room which 
was nearest to the master’s desk, and by it Nicholas sat down, 
so depressed and self-degraded by the consciousness of his 
position that if death could have come upon him at that time 
he would have been almost happy to meet it. The cruelty, 
of which he had been an unwilling witness, the coarse and 
ruffianly behaviour of Squeers even in his best moods, the 
filthy place, the sights and sounds about him, all contributed 
to this state of feeling; but when he recollected that, being an 
assistant, he actually seemed — no matter what unhappy 
train of circumstances had brought him to that pass — to 


54 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


be the aider and abettor of a system which filled him with 
honest disgust and indignation, he loathed himself and felt, 
for the moment, as though the mere consciousness of his 
present situation must, through all time to come, prevent his 
raising his head again. 

But for the present his resolve was taken, and the reso¬ 
lution he had formed on the preceding night remained un¬ 
disturbed. He had written to his mother and sister, an¬ 
nouncing the safe conclusion of his journey and saying little 
about Dotheboys Hall, and saying that little as cheerfully 
as he possibly could. He hoped that by remaining where 
he was he might do some good, even there; at all events, 
others depended too much on his uncle’s favour to admit of 
his awakening his wrath just then. 

One reflection disturbed him far more than any selfish 
considerations arising out of his own position. This was 
the probable destination of his sister Kate. His uncle had 
deceived him, and might he not consign her to some miserable 
place where her youth and beauty would prove a far greater 
curse than ugliness and decrepitude? To a caged man, 
bound hand and foot, this was a terrible idea; —but no, he 
thought, his mother was by; there was the portrait painter, 
too — simple enough, but still living in the world, and of it. 
He was willing to believe that Ralph Nickleby had con¬ 
ceived a personal dislike to himself. Having pretty good 
reason, by this time, to reciprocate it, he had no great diffi¬ 
culty in arriving at this conclusion, and tried to persuade 
himself that the feeling extended no farther than between 
them. 

As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once 
encountered the upturned face of Smike, who was on his 
knees before the stove, picking a few stray cinders from the 
hearth and planting them on the fire. He had paused to 
steal a look at Nicholas; and when he saw that he was 
observed, shrunk back, as if expecting a blow. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 55 

“ You need not fear me/’ said Nicholas kindly. “ Are you 
cold? ” 

“ N-o-o.” 

“ You are shivering.” 

“ I am not cold,” replied Smike. “ I am used to it.” 

There was such an obvious fear of giving offense in his 
manner, and he was such a timid, broken-spirited creature 
that Nicholas could not help exclaiming, “ Poor fellow! ” 

If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away 
without a word. But now he began to cry despairingly. 

“ Oh dear, oh dear! ” he said, covering his face with his 
cracked and horny hands. “ My heart will break. It will, 
it will.” 

“ Hush! ” said Nicholas, laying his hand upon hi£ shoulder. 
“ Be a man; you are nearly one by years, God help you.” 

“By years! ” cried Smike. “Oh dear, dear, how many 
of them! How many of them since I was a little child, 
younger than any that are here now! Where are they all ? ” 

“ Whom do you speak of ? ” inquired Nicholas, wishing to 
rouse the poor half-witted creature to reason. “ Tell me.” 

“My friends,” he replied, “myself — my — oh! what 
sufferings mine have been! ” 

“ There is always hope,” said Nicholas; he knew not what 
to say. 

“No,” rejoined the other, “no; none for me. Do you 
remember the boy that died here ? ” 

“ I was not here, you know,” said Nicholas gently; “ but 
what of him ? ” 

“ Why,” replied the youth, drawing closer to his question¬ 
er’s side, “ I was with him at night, and when it was all 
silent he cried no more for friends he wished to come and sit 
with him, but began to see faces around his bed that came 
from home; he said they smiled, and talked to him; and he 
died at last lifting his head to kiss them. Do you hear? ” 


56 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Yes, yes,” rejoined Nicholas. 

“ What faces will smile on me when I die! ” cried his com¬ 
panion, shivering. “ Who will talk to me in those long 
nights! They cannot come from home; they would frighten 
me, if they did, for I don’t know what it is, and shouldn’t 
know them. Pain and fear, pain and fear for me, alive or 
dead. No hope, no hope! ” 

The bell rang to bed; and the boy, subsiding at the sound 
into his usual listless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid 
notice. It was with a heavy heart that Nicholas soon after¬ 
wards followed — to his dirty and crowded dormitory. 


CHAPTER VI 

W HEN Mr. Squeers left the schoolroom for the night, 
he went to his own fireside, which was situated — 
not in the room in which Nicholas had supped on the night of 
his arrival, but in a smaller apartment in the rear of the 
premises, where his lady wife, his amiable son, and accom¬ 
plished daughter were in the full enjoyment of each other’s 
society. Mrs. Squeers was engaged in the matronly pursuit 
of stocking-darning; and the young lady and gentleman were 
occupied in the adjustment of some youthful difference, by 
means of a pugilistic contest across the table, which, on the 
approach of their honoured parent, subsided into a noiseless 
exchange of kicks beneath it. 

In this place, it may be as well to apprise the reader, that 
Miss Fanny Squeers was in her three-and-twentieth year. 
She was not tall like her mother, but short like her father. 
From the former she inherited a voice of harsh quality; 
from the latter a remarkable expression of the right eye, 
something akin to having none at all.- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


57 


Miss Squeers had been spending a few days with a neigh¬ 
bouring friend, and had only just returned to the parental 
roof. To this circumstance may be referred her having heard 
nothing of Nicholas until Mr. Squeers himself now made 
him the subject of conversation. 

“ Well, my dear,” said Squeers, drawing up his chair, 
“ what do you think of him by this time? ” 

“ Think of who? ” inquired Mrs. Squeers; who (as she often 
remarked) was no grammarian, thank heaven. 

“ Of that young man — the new teacher — who else could 
I mean? ” 

“Oh! that Knuckleboy,” said Mrs. Squeers impatiently. 
“ I hate him.” 

“ What do you hate him for, my dear? ” asked Squeers. 

“ What’s that to you?” retorted Mrs. Squeers. “If I 
hate him, that's enough, ain’t it ? ” 

“ Quite enough for him, my dear, and a great deal too much, 
I dare say, if he knew it,” replied Squeers in a pacific tone. “ I 
only asked from curiosity, my dear.” 

“ Well, then, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. Because 
he’s a proud, haughty, consequential, turned-up-nosed pea¬ 
cock.” 

“ Hem!” said Squeers, “ he is cheap, my dear; the young 
man is very cheap.” 

“ Not a bit of it.” 

“ Five pound a year.” 

“What of that; it’s dear if you don’t want him, isn’t 
it?” 

“ But we do want him.” 

“ I don’t see that you want him any more than the dead. 
Don’t tell me. You can put on the cards and in the ad¬ 
vertisements, ‘ Education by Mr. Wackford Squeers and able 
assistants,’ without having any assistants, can’t you? I’ve 
no patience with you.” 


58 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“Haven’t you!” said Squeers, sternly. “Now I’ll tell 
you what, Mrs. Squeers. In this matter of having a teacher, 
I’ll take my own way, if you please. A slave driver in the 
West Indies is allowed a man under him to see that his blacks 
don’t run away, or get up a rebellion; and I’ll have a man 
under me to do the same with our blacks, till such time as 
little Wackford is able to take charge of the school.” 

“ Am I to take care of the school when I grow up a man, 
father? ” said Wackford junior, suspending, in the excess of 
his delight, a vicious kick which he was administering to his 
sister. 

“ You are, my son.” 

“ Oh my eye, won’t I give it to the boys! ” exclaimed the 
interesting child, grasping his father’s cane. “ Oh, father, 
won’t I make ’em squeak again! ” 

It was a proud moment in Mr. Squeers’s life when he 
witnessed that burst of enthusiasm in his young child’s mind 
and saw in it a foreshadowing of his future eminence. 

“ He’s a nasty stuck-up monkey — that’s what I consider 
him,” said Mrs. Squeers, reverting to Nicholas. 

“ Supposing he is,” said Squeers, “ he is as well stuck up 
in our schoolroom as anywhere else, isn’t he? — especially 
as he don’t like it.” 

“ Well, there’s something in that. I hope it’ll bring his 
pride down, and it shall be no fault of mine if it don’t.” 

Now a proud usher in a Yorkshire school was such a very 
extraordinary and unaccountable thing to hear of — any 
usher at all being a novelty, but a proud one, a being of whose 
existence the wildest imagination could never have dreamed # 
— that Miss Squeers, who seldom troubled herself with 
scholastic matters, inquired with much curiosity who this 
Knuckleboy was, that gave himself such airs. 

“ Nickleby,” said Squeers, spelling the name according to 
some eccentric system which prevailed in his own mind; 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 59 

“ your mother always calls things and people by their wrong 
names.” 

“ No matter for that,” said Mrs. Squeers, “ Lsee them with 
right eyes, and that’s quite enough for me-. I watched him 
when you were laying on to little Bolder, this afternoon. 
He looked as black as thunder all the while, and one time 
started up as if he had more than got it in his mind to make 
a rush at you, I saw him, though he thought I didn’t.” 

“ Never mind that, father,” said Miss Squeers, as the head 
of the family was about to reply. “ Who is the man ? ” 

“ Why, your father has got some nonsense in his head that 
he’s the son of a poor gentleman that died the other day,” 
said Mrs. Squeers. 

“ The son of a gentleman! ” 

“ Yes, but I don’t believe a word of it. I say again, I hate 
him worse than poison,” said Mrs. Squeers, vehemently. 

“ If you dislike him, my dear,” returned Squeers, “ I don’t 
know anybody who can show dislike better than you, and of 
course there’s no occasion, with him, to take the trouble to 
hide it.” 

“ I don’t intend to, I assure you.” 

“ That’s right, and if he has a touch of pride about him, as 
I think he has, I don’t believe there’s a woman in all England 
that can bring anybody’s spirit down as quick as you can, 
my love.” 

Mrs. Squeers chuckled vastly on the receipt of these 
flattering compliments, and said she hoped she had tamed 
a high spirit or two in her day. It is but due to her character 
to say that, in conjunction with her estimable husband, she 
had broken many and many a one. 

Miss Fanny Squeers carefully treasured up this, and much 
more conversation on the same subject, until she retired for 
the night, when she questioned the hungry servant minutely 
regarding the appearance of Nicholas; to which queries the 


60 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


girl returned such enthusiastic replies, touching his beauti¬ 
ful dark eyes and his sweet smile and his straight legs — 
upon which last-named articles she laid particular stress, 
the general run of legs at Dotheboys Hall being crooked — 
that Miss Squeers was not long in arriving at the conclusion 
that the new usher must be a very remarkable person. 
And so Miss Squeers made up her mind that she would take 
a personal observation of Nicholas the very next day. 

The young lady watched the opportunity of her mother 
being engaged, and her father absent, and went accidentally 
into the schoolroom to get a pen mended: where, seeing 
nobody but Nicholas presiding over the boys, she blushed 
very deeply, and exhibited great confusion. 

“ I beg your pardon,” faltered Miss Squeers; “ I thought 
my father was — or might be — dear me, how very awk¬ 
ward! ” 

“ Mr. Squeers is out,” said Nicholas, by no means overcome 
by the apparition, unexpected though it was. 

“ Do you know will he be long, sir ? ” asked Miss Squeers, 
with bashful hesitation. 

“ He said about an hour,” replied Nicholas — politely, of 
course, but without any indication of being stricken to the 
heart by Miss Squeers’s charms. 

“ I never knew anything happen so cross,” exclaimed the 
young lady. “ Thank you! I am very sorry I intruded, I 
am sure. If I hadn’t thought my father was here, I wouldn’t 
upon any account have — it is very provoking — must look 
so very strange,” murmured Miss Squeers, blushing once 
more, and glancing from the pen in her hand to Nicholas at 
his desk, and back again. 

“ If that is all you want,” said Nicholas, pointing to the 
pen and smiling, in spite of himself, at the affected embarrass¬ 
ment of the schoolmaster’s daughter, “ perhaps I can supply 
his place.” 

Miss Squeers glanced at the door, as if dubious of the 


61 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

propriety of advancing any nearer to an utter stranger; then 
round the schoolroom, as though in some measure reassured 
by the presence of forty boys; and finally sidled up to 
Nicholas and delivered the pen into his hand with a most 
winning mixture of reserve and condescension. 

“ Shall it be hard or a soft point ? ” inquired Nicholas, 
smiling to prevent himself from laughing outright. 

“ He has a beautiful smile,” thought Miss Squeers. 

“ Which did you say? ” asked Nicholas. 

“ Dear me, I was thinking of something else for the mo¬ 
ment, I declare,” replied Miss Squeers — “ Oh! as soft as 
possible, if you please.” With which words, Miss Squeers 
sighed. It might be to give Nicholas to understand that her 
heart was soft and that the pen was wanted to match. 

Upon these instructions Nicholas made the pen. When 
he gave it to Miss Squeers, she dropped it; and when he 
stooped to pick it up, Miss Squeers stooped also, and they 
knocked their heads together; whereat five-and-twenty little 
boys laughed aloud: being positively for the first and only 
time that half-year. 

“ Very awkward of me,” said Nicholas, opening the door 
for the young lady’s retreat. 

“ Not at all, sir,” replied Miss Squeers; “ it was my fault. 
It was all my foolish — a — a — good morning! ” 

“ Qood-bye,” said Nicholas. “ The next I make for you, 
I hope will be made less clumsily. Take care! You are 
biting the point off now.” 

“Really,” said Miss Squeers; “so embarrassing that I 
scarcely know what I — very sorry to give you so much 
trouble.” 

“ Not the least trouble in the world,” replied Nicholas, 
closing the schoolroom door. 

“ I never saw such legs in the whole course of my life! ” 
said Miss Squeers, as she walked away. 

In fact, Miss Squeers was in love with Nicholas Nickleby. 


62 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

To account for the rapidity with which this young lady 
had conceived a passion for Nicholas, it may be necessary 
to state that the friend from whom she had so recently 
returned was a miller’s daughter of only eighteen who had 
become engaged to the son of a small corn factor, 1 resident 
in the nearest market town. Miss Squeers and the miller’s 
daughter, being fast friends, had promised each other some 
two years before that whoever was first engaged to be mar¬ 
ried should straightway confide the mighty secret to the 
bosom of the other, before communicating it to any living 
soul, and bespeak her as bridesmaid without loss of time. 
In fulfilment of this pledge the miller’s daughter, when her 
engagement was formed, came out express at eleven o’clock 
at night, as the corn factor’s son made an offer of his hand 
and heart at twenty-five minutes past ten by the Dutch 
clock in the kitchen, and rushed into Miss Squeers’s bedroom 
with the gratifying intelligence. Now Miss Squeers, being 
five years older, had been more than commonly anxious to 
return the compliment and possess her friend with a similar 
secret. The little interview with Nicholas had no sooner 
passed than Miss Squeers made her way, very rapidly, to 
her friend’s house and revealed how that she was — not 
exactly engaged, but going to be — to a gentleman’s son — 
(none of your corn factors, but a gentleman’s son of high 
descent)—who had come down as teacher to Dotheboys 
Hall, under the most mysterious and remarkable circum¬ 
stances— indeed, as Miss Squeers more than once hinted, 
she had good reason to believe, induced, by the fame of her 
many charms, to seek her out, and woo and win her. 

“ Isn’t it an extraordinary thing ? ” said Miss Squeers, 
emphasizing the adjective strongly. 

“ Most extraordinary,” replied the friend. “ But what 
has he said to you? ” 


1 Grain dealer. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 63 

“ Don’t ask me what he said, my dear/’ rejoined Miss 
Squeers. “If you had only seen his looks and smiles! I 
never was so overcome in all my life.” 

“ How 1 should like to see him! ” exclaimed the friend. 

So you shall, ’Tilda,” replied Miss Squeers. “ I should 
consider myself one of the most ungrateful creatures alive if 
I denied you. I think mother’s going away for two days 
to fetch some boys; and when she does, I’ll ask you and John 
up to tea and have him to meet you.” 

This was a charming idea, and having fully discussed it, the 
friends parted. 

It so fell out that Mrs. Squeers’s journey to some distance 
was fixed that very afternoon, for the next day but one. 

Whenever such opportunities as these occurred, it was 
Squeers s custom to drive over to the market town every 
evening, on pretense of urgent business, and stop till ten or 
eleven o clock at a tavern he much affected. As the party 
was not in his way, therefore, but rather afforded a means 
of compromise with Miss Squeers (she would not tell her 
mother that he went to the tavern), he readily yielded his 
full assent hereunto, and willingly communicated to Nicho¬ 
las that he was expected to take his tea in the parlour that 
evening at five o’clock. 

Miss Squeers was in a desperate flutter as the time ap¬ 
proached and dressed out to best advantage; with her hair 

it had more than a tinge of red, — curled in five distinct 
rows, up to the very top of her head, to say nothing of the 
blue sash which floated down her back, or the worked apron, 
or the long gloves, or the green gauze scarf, worn over one 
shoulder and under the other; or any of the numerous 
devices which were to be as so many arrows to the heart 
of Nicholas. She had scarcely completed these arrangements 
when the friend arrived with a whitey-brown parcel —fiat 
and three-ggrnered — containing sundry small adornments 


64 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

which were to be put on upstairs, and which the friend put 
on, talking incessantly. When Miss Squeers had done 
the friend’s hair, the friend “ did ” Miss Squeers’s hair, throw¬ 
ing in some striking improvements in the way of ringlets down 
the neck; and then, when they were both touched up to their 
entire satisfaction, they went downstairs in full state with 
the long gloves on, all ready for company. 

“Where’s John, Tilda?” said Miss Squeers. 

“ Only gone home to clean himself,” replied the friend. 
“ He will be here by the time the tea’s drawn.” 

“ I do so palpitate,” observed Miss Squeers. 

“Ah! I know what it is,” replied the friend. 

“ I have not been used to it, you know, ’Tilda,” said Miss 
Squeers, applying her hand to the left side of her sash. 

« You’ll soon get the better of it, dear,” rejoined the friend. 
While they were talking thus, the hungry servant brought in 
the tea things, and soon afterwards somebody tapped at the 
room door. 

“There he is! ” cried Miss Squeers. “Oh ’Tilda! ” 

“ Hush! ” said ’Tilda. “ Hem! Say ' come in.’ ” 

“ Come in,” cried Miss Squeers faintly. And in walked 
Nicholas. 

“ Good evening,” said that young gentleman, all uncon¬ 
scious of his conquest. “I understood from Mr. Squeers 
that-” 

“Oh; it’s all right,” interposed Miss Squeers. “Father 
don’t tea with us, but you won’t mind that, I dare say.” 
(This was said archly.) 

Nicholas opened his eyes at this, but he turned the matter 
off very coolly — not caring, particularly, about anything 
just then — and went through the ceremony of introduction 
to the miller’s daughter with so much grace that that young 
lady was lost in admiration. 

-“ We are only waiting for one more gentleman,” said Miss 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


65 


Squeers, taking off the teapot lid and looking in to see how 
the tea was getting on. 

It was matter of equal moment to Nicholas whether they 
were waiting for one gentleman or twenty, so he received 
the intelligence with perfect unconcern; and being out of 
spirits and not seeing any especial reason why he should 
make himself agreeable, looked out of the window and 
sighed involuntarily. 

As luck would have it, Miss Squeers’s friend was of a play¬ 
ful turn, and hearing Nicholas sigh, she took it into her head 
to rally the lovers on their lowness of spirits. 

“ But if it’s caused by my being here/’ said the young lady, 
“ don’t mind me a bit, for I’m quite as bad. You may go on 
just as you would if you were alone.” 

“ ’Tilda,” said Miss Squeers, colouring up to the top row 
of curls, “ I am ashamed of you ”; and here the two friends 
burst into a variety of giggles and glanced, from time to time, 
over the tops of their pocket handkerchiefs at Nicholas, who 
from a state of unmixed astonishment gradually fell into one 
of irrepressible laughter — occasioned partly by the bare 
notion of his being in love with Miss Squeers, and partly by 
the preposterous appearance and behaviour of the two girls. 
These two causes of merriment, taken together, struck him as 
being so keenly ridiculous that, despite his miserable condi¬ 
tion, he laughed till he was thoroughly exhausted. 

“ Well,” thought Nicholas, “ as I am here and seem ex¬ 
pected, for some reason or other, to be amiable, it’s of no 
use looking like a goose. I may as well accommodate myself 
to the company.” 

His youthful spirits and vivacity getting, for a time, the 
better of his sad thoughts, he no sooner formed this resolu¬ 
tion than he saluted Miss Squeers and the friend with great 
gallantry, and drawing a chair to the tea table, began to make 
himself at home. 


66 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


The ladies were in the full delight of this altered behaviour 
on the part of Mr. Nickleby when the expected swain arrived, 
with his hair very damp from recent washing and a clean 
shirt, whereof the collar might have belonged to some giant 
ancestor. 

“ Well, John,” said Miss Matilda Price (which, by the 
by, was the name of the miller’s daughter). 

“ Weel,” said John with a grin that even the collar could 
not conceal. 

“ I beg your pardon,” interposed Miss Squeers, hastening 
to do the honours, “ Mr. Nickleby — Mr. John Browdie.” 

“ Servant, sir,” said John, who was something over six 
feet high. 

“ Yours to command, sir,” replied Nicholas, making fear¬ 
ful ravages on the bread and butter. 

Mr. Browdie was not a gentleman of great conversational 
powers, so he grinned twice more, and having now bestowed 
his customary mark of recognition on every person in com¬ 
pany, grinned at nothing in particular, and helped himself to 
food. 

“ Old wooman awa’, bean’t she ? ” said Mr. Browdie, with 
his mouth full. 

Miss Squeers nodded assent. 

Mr. Browdie gave a grin of special width, as if he thought 
that really was something to laugh at, and went to work at 
the bread and butter with increased vigour. It was quite a 
sight to behold how he and Nicholas emptied the plate 
between them. 

“ Ye wean’t get bread and butther ev’ery neight, I expect, 
mun,” said Mr. Browdie, after he had sat staring at Nicholas 
a long time over the empty plate. 

Nicholas bit his lip and coloured, but affected not to hear 
the remark. 

“ Ecod,” said Mr. Browdie, laughing boisterously, “ they 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 67 

dean t put too much intiv’em. Ye’ll be nowt but skeen and 
boans if you stop here long eneaf. Ho! ho! ho! ” 

“ You are facetious, sir,” said Nicholas, scornfully. 

Na; I dean’t know,” replied Mr. Browdie, “ but t’oother 
teacher, ’cod he wur a learn ’un, he wur.” The recollection 
of the last teacher’s leanness seemed to afford Mr. Browdie 
the most exquisite delight, for he laughed until he found it 
necessary to apply his coat cuffs to his eyes. 

I don’t know whether your perceptions are quite keen 
enough, Mr. Browdie, to enable you to understand that your 
remarks are offensive,” said Nicholas in a towering passion, 

‘ but if they are, have the goodness to-” 

“ If you say another word, John,” shrieked Miss Price, 
stopping her admirer’s mouth as he was about to interrupt, 
“ onl y h a lf a word, I’ll never forgive you, or speak to you 
again.” 

“ Weel, my lass, I dean’t care aboot ’un,” said the corn 
factor, bestowing a hearty kiss on Miss Matilda; “let ’un 
gang on, let ’un gang on.” 

It now became Miss Squeers’s turn to intercede with Nicho¬ 
las, wdiich she did with majiy symptoms of alarm and horror; 
the effect of the double intercession was that he and John 
Browdie shook hands across the table with much gravity, and 
such was the imposing nature of the ceremonial that Miss 
Squeers was overcome and shed tears. 

What’s the matter, Fanny?” said Miss Price. 

Nothing, ’Tilda,” replied Miss Squeers, sobbing, 

“ There never was any danger,” said Miss Price, “ was there, 
Mr. Nickleby? ” 

“ None at all,” replied Nicholas. “ Absurd.” 

“That’s right,” whispered Miss Price, “say something 
kind to her, and she’ll soon come round. Here! Shall John 
and I go into the little kitchen and come back presently? ” 

“ Not on any account,” rejoined Nicholas, quite alarmed 


68 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

at the proposition. “ What on earth should you do that 
for? ” 

“ Well,” said Miss Price, beckoning him aside, and speak¬ 
ing with some degree of contempt —“ you are a one to keep 
company 

“ What do you mean? I am not a one to keep company 
at all — here at all events. I can’t make this out.” 

“ No, nor I neither,” rejoined Miss Price; “but men are 
always fickle, and always were, and always will be; that I 
can make out very easily.” 

“ Fickle! ” cried Nicholas; “ what do you suppose? You 
don’t mean to say that you think-” 

“Oh no, I think nothing at all,” retorted Miss Price, 
pettishly. “ Look at her, dressed so beautiful and looking 
so we n — and really almost handsome. I am ashamed of 
you.” 

“ My dear girl, what have I got to do with her dressing 
beautifully or looking well? ” 

“Come, don’t call me a dear girl,” said Miss Price — 
smiling a little though, for she was pretty, and a coquette 
too in her small way, and Nicholas .was good-looking, and she 
supposed him the property of somebody else, which were all 
reasons why she should be gratified to think she had made 
an impression on him — “ or Fanny will be saying it’s my 
fault. Come, we’re going to have a game at cards.” Pro¬ 
nouncing these last words aloud, she tripped away and re¬ 
joined the big Yorkshireman. 

“ There are only four of us, ’Tilda,” said Miss Squeers, 
looking slyly at Nicholas; “so we had better go partners, 
two against two.” 

“ What do you say, Mr. Nickleby? ” inquired Miss Price. 

“ With all the pleasure in life.” And so saying, quite un¬ 
conscious of his heinous offence, he amalgamated into one 
common heap those portions of a Dotheboys Hall card of 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 69 

terms, which represented his own counters, and those allotted 
to Miss Price, respectively, making her his partner. 

“ Mr. Browdie,” said Miss Squeers hysterically, “ shall we 
make a bank against them?” 

The Yorkshireman assented — apparently quite over¬ 
whelmed by the new usher’s impudence — and Miss Squeers 
darted a spiteful look at her friend and giggled convulsively. 

The deal fell to Nicholas, and the hand prospered. 

“ We intend to win everything,” said he. 

“ ’Tilda has won something she didn’t expect, I think, 
haven’t you, dear? ” said Miss Squeers, maliciously. 

“ Only a dozen and eight, love,” replied Miss Price, affect¬ 
ing to take the question in a literal sense. 

“ How dull you are tonight! ” sneered Miss Squeers. 

“No, indeed,” replied Miss Price, “I am in excellent 
spirits. I was thinking you seemed out of sorts.” 

“ Me! ” cried Miss Squeers, biting her lips, and trembling 
with very jealousy; “ Oh no! ” 

“ That’s well,” remarked Miss Price. “ Your hair’s coming 
out of curl, dear.” 

“Never mind me,” tittered Miss Squeers; “you had 
better attend to your partner.” 

“ Thank you for reminding her,” said Nicholas. “ So she 
had.” The Yorkshireman flattened his nose, once or twice, 
with his clenched fist, as if to keep his hand in till he had 
an opportunity of exercising it upon the features of some 
other gentleman; and Miss Squeers tossed her head with 
such indignation that the gust of wind raised by the multi¬ 
tudinous curls in motion nearly blew the candle out. 

“ I never had such luck, really,” exclaimed coquettish Miss 
Price, after another hand or two. “ It’s all along of you, 
Mr. Nickleby, I think. I should like to have you for a partner 
always.” 

“ I wish you had.” 


70 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ You’ll have a bad wife, though, if you always win at 
cards,” said Miss Price. 

“ Not if your wish is gratified,” replied Nicholas. “ I am 
sure I shall have a good one in that case.” 

To see how Miss Squeers tossed her head and the corn 
factor flattened his nose while this conversation was carrying 
on! It would have been worth a small annuity to have 
beheld that; let alone Miss Price’s evident joy at making 
them jealous and Nicholas Nickleby’s happy unconscious¬ 
ness of making anybody uncomfortable. 

“ We have all the talking to ourselves, it seems,” said 
Nicholas, looking good-humouredly round the table, as he 
took up the cards for a fresh deal. 

“ You do it so well,” tittered Miss Squeers, “ that it would 
be a pity to interrupt, wouldn’t it, Mr. Browdie! He, he, 
he! ” 

“ No,” said Nicholas, “ we do it in default of having any¬ 
body else to talk to.” 

“ We’ll talk to you, you know, if you’ll say anything,” said 
Miss Price. 

“ Thank you, ’Tilda, dear,” retorted Miss Squeers, majes¬ 
tically. 

“ Or you can talk to each other, if you don’t choose to talk 
to us,” said Miss Price, rallying her dear friend. “John, 
why don’t you say something ? ” 

“Say summat?” repeated the Yorkshireman. 

“ Ay, and not sit there so silent and glum.” 

“ Weel, then! ” said the Yorkshireman, striking the table 
with his fist, “ what I say’s this: Dang my boans and boddy, 
if I stan’ this ony longer. Do ye gang whoam wi’ me, and 
do yon loight an’ toight young whipster look sharp out for 
a brokken head next time he comes under my hond.” 

“ Mercy on us, what’s all this ? ” cried Miss Price, in 
affected astonishment. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 71 

“ Cum whoam, tell ’e, cum whoam,” replied the Yorkshire- 
man, sternly. And as he delivered the reply, Miss Squeers 
burst into a shower of tears, arising in part from desperate 
vexation and in part from an impotent desire to lacerate 
somebody’s countenance with her fair finger nails. 

“ Why, and here’s Fanny in tears now! ” exclaimed Miss 
Price, as if in fresh amazement. “ What can be the matter ? ” 

“ Oh! you don’t know, miss, of course you don’t know. 
Pray don’t trouble yourself to inquire,” said Miss Squeers, 
producing that change of countenance which children call 
making a face. 

“ Well, I’m sure! ” exclaimed Miss Price. 

“ And who cares whether you are sure or not, ma’am ? ” 
retorted Miss Squeers, making another face. 

“ You needn’t take the trouble to make yourself plainer 
than you are, ma’am, however,” rejoined Miss Price, “ be¬ 
cause that’s quite unnecessary.” 

Miss Squeers, in reply, turned very red and thanked God 
that she hadn’t got the bold faces of some people. Miss 
Price, in rejoinder, congratulated herself upon not being 
possessed of the envious feeling of other people, whereupon 
Miss Squeers made some general remark touching the danger 
of associating with low persons, in which Miss Price entirely 
coincided, observing that it was very true indeed and she 
had thought so for a long time. “ ’Tilda,” exclaimed Miss 
Squeers with dignity, “ I hate you.” 

“ Ah! There’s no love lost between us, I assure you,” said 
Miss Price, tying her bonnet strings with a jerk. “ You’ll 
cry your eyes out when I’m gone; you know you will.” 

“ I scorn your words, minx.” 

“ You pay me a great compliment when you say so,” 
answered the miller’s daughter, curtseying very low. “ Wish 
you a very good night, ma’am, and pleasant dreams attend 
your sleep! ” 


72 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

With this parting "benediction Miss Price swept from the 
room, followed by the huge Yorkshireman, who exchanged 
with Nicholas, at parting, that expressive scowl with which 
the cut-and-thrust counts, in melodramatic performances, 
inform each other they will meet again. 

They were no sooner gone than Miss Squeers fulfilled the 
prediction of her friend by giving vent to a most copious 
burst of tears. Nicholas stood looking on for a few seconds, 
rather doubtful what to do, but feeling uncertain whether 
the fit would end in his being embraced or scratched, and 
considering that either infliction would be equally agreeable, 
he walked off very quietly while Miss Squeers was moaning 
in her pocket handkerchief. 

“ This is one consequence,” thought Nicholas, when he 
had groped his way to the dark sleeping room, “ of my cursed 
readiness to adapt myself to any society in which chance 
carried me. If I had sat mute and motionless, as I might 
have done, this would not have happened.” 

He listened for a few minutes, but all was quiet. 

“ I was glad,” he murmured, “ to grasp at any relief from 
the sight of this dreadful place, or the presence of its vile 
master. Now I have set these people by the ears and made 
two new enemies, where, heaven knows, I needed none. Well, 
it is a just punishment for having forgotten, even for an 
hour, what is around me here! ” 

So saying, he felt his way among the throng of weary- 
hearted sleepers, and crept into his poor bed. 


CHAPTER VII 


N the second morning after the departure of Nicholas 



yj for Yorkshire, Kate Nickleby sat in a very faded 
chair raised upon a very dusty throne in Miss La Creevy’s 
room, giving that lady a sitting for the portrait upon which 
she was engaged. 

“ And when,” said Miss La Creevy, “ do you expect to see 
your uncle again ? ” 

“ I scarcely know; I had expected to have seen him before 
now. Soon, I hope, for this state of uncertainty is worse than 
anything.” 

“ I suppose he has money, hasn’t he ? ” 

“ He is very rich, I have heard. X don’t know that he is, 
but I believe so.” 

“ Ah, you may depend upon it he is, or he wouldn’t be 
so surly,” remarked Miss La Creevy. “When a man’s a 
bear, he is generally pretty independent.” 

“ His manner is rough,” said Kate. 

“ Rough! ” cried Miss La Creevy, “ a porcupine’s a feather 
bed to him! I never met with such a cross-grained old 
savage.” 

“ It is only his manner, I believe,” observed Kate, timidly; 
“ he was disappointed in early life, I think I have heard, or 
has had his temper soured by some calamity. I should be 
sorry to think ill of him until I knew he deserved it.” 

“ Well, that’s very right and proper,” observed the minia¬ 
ture painter, “ and heaven forbid that I should be the cause 
of your doing so! But now, mightn’t he, without feeling it 


73 


74 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


himself, make you and your mama some nice little allowance 
that would keep you both comfortable until you were well 
married, and be a little fortune to her afterwards? What 
would a hundred a year, for instance, be to him ? ” 

“ I don’t know what it would be to him,” said Kate, with 
energy,“ but it would be that to me I would rather die than 
take.” 

“Heyday! ” cried Miss La Creevy. 

“ A dependence upon him would embitter my whole life. 
I should feel begging a far less degradation.” 

“ Well! ” exclaimed Miss La Creevy. “ This of a relation 
whom you will not hear an indifferent person speak ill of, my 
dear, sounds oddly enough, I confess.” 

“ I dare say it does,” replied Kate, speaking more gently, 
“ indeed I am sure it must. I — I — only mean that with 
the feelings and recollection of better times upon me, I could 
not bear to live on anybody’s bounty — not his particularly, 
but anybody’s.” 

Miss La Creevy looked slyly at her companion, as if she 
doubted whether Ralph himself were not the subject of dis¬ 
like, but seeing that her young friend was distressed, made 
no remark. 

“ I only ask of him,” continued Kate, whose tears fell while 
she spoke, “ that he will move so little out of his way in my 
behalf as to enable me by his recommendation — only by 
his recommendation — to earn, literally, my bread and remain 
with my mother. Whether we shall ever be happy again 
depends upon the fortunes of my dear brother; but if my 
uncle will get me something to do, and Nicholas only tells 
us that he is well and cheerful, I shall be contented.” 

As she ceased to speak, there was a rustling behind the 
screen which stood between her and the door, and some 
person knocked at the wainscot. 

“ Come in, whoever it is! ” cried Miss La Creevy. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 75 

The person complied, and, coming forward at once, gave to 
view the form and features of Mr. Ralph Nickleby. 

1 our servant, ladies,” said Ralph, looking sharply at them 
by turns. You were talking so loud that I was unable to 
make you hear. I called in, on my way upstairs, more than 
half expecting to find you here. Is that my niece’s portrait 
ma’am? ” 

“ Yes > 11 is > Mr. Nickleby,” said Miss La Creevy, with a 
very sprightly air, “ and between you and me and the post, 
sir, it will be a very nice portrait, too, though I say it who 
am the painter.” 

“ Don’t trouble yourself to show it to me, ma’am,” cried 
Ralph, moving away, “ I have no eye for likenesses. Is it 
nearly finished? ” 

“ Why> yes,” replied Miss La Creevy, considering with 
the pencil end of her brush in her mouth. 11 Two more 
sittings will-” 

Have them at once, ma’am. She’ll have no time to idle 
over fooleries after tomorrow. Work, ma’am, work; we 
must all work. Have you let your lodgings, ma’am? ” 

“ I have not put a bill up yet, sir.” 

“Put it up at once, ma’am; they won’t want the rooms 
after this week, or if they do, can’t pay for them. Now, my 
dear, if you’re ready, we’ll lose no more time.” 

With an assumption of kindness which sat worse upon 
him even than his usual manner, Mr. Ralph Nickleby mo¬ 
tioned to the young lady to precede him, and bowing gravely 
to Miss La Creevy, closed the door and followed upstairs, 
where Mrs. Nickleby received him with many expressions 
of regard. Stopping them somewhat abruptly, Ralph waved 
his hand with an impatient gesture, and proceeded to the 
object of his visit. 

“I have found a situation for your daughter, ma’am.” 

“ Well,” replied Mrs. Nickleby. “ Now, I will say that 


76 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

that is only just what I have expected of you. ‘ Depend upon 
it/ I said to Kate only yesterday morning at breakfast, 

‘ your uncle has provided, in a most ready manner, for 
Nicholas, and he will not leave us until he has done at least 
the same for you/ These were my very words, as near as 
I remember. Kate, my dear, why don’t you thank 
your-” 

11 Let me proceed, ma’am, pray,” said Ralph, interrupting 
his sister-in-law in the full torrent of her discourse. “ The 
situation that I procured is with — with a milliner and dress¬ 
maker, in short.” 

“A milliner! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ A milliner and dressmaker, ma’am,” replied Ralph. 
“ Dressmakers in London, as I need not remind you, ma’am, 
make large fortunes.” Here he proceeded to explain the 
great advantages of such work. 

Now the first ideas called up in Mrs. Nickleby’s mind by 
the words “milliner” and “dressmaker” were connected 
with certain wicker baskets lined with black oilskin which she 
remembered to have seen carried'to and fro in the streets; 
but as Ralph proceeded with his description these disap¬ 
peared, and were replaced by visions of large houses at the 
West End, neat private carriages, and a banker’s book; all 
of which images succeeded each other with such rapidity that 
he had no sooner finished speaking than she nodded her head 
and said “Very true,” with great appearance of satisfac- 
tion. 

“ What your uncle says is very true, Kate, my dear,” said 
Mrs. Nickleby. “ I recollect when your poor papa and I 
came to town after we were married that a young lady 
brought me home a chip cottage-bonnet with white and 
green trimmings and green persian lining, in her own car¬ 
riage, which drove up to the door full gallop; at least, I 
am not quite certain whether it was her own carriage or 
a hackney chariot, but I remember very well that the horse 


77 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

dropped down dead as he was turning round and that your 
poor papa said he hadn’t had any corn for a fortnight.” 

This anecdote was not received with any great demon¬ 
stration of feeling, inasmuch as Kate hung down her head 
while it was relating, and Ralph manifested very intelligible 
symptoms of extreme impatience. 

“ The lady’s name,” said Ralph, hastily striking in, “ is 
Mantalini — Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives 
near Cavendish Square. If your daughter is disposed to 
try after the situation, I’ll take her there directly.” 

“ Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love? ” 

“ A great deal, but not now. I would rather speak to 
him when we are alone; — it will save his time if I thank him 
and say what I wish to say to him, as we walk along.” 

With these words, Kate hurried away, to hide the traces 
of emotion that were stealing down her face and to prepare 
herself for the walk, while Mrs. Nickleby amused her brother- 
in-law by giving him, with many tears, a detailed account of 
the dimensions of a rosewood cabinet piano they had possessed 
in their days of affluence, together with a minute description 
of eight drawing-room chairs, with turned legs and green 
chintz seats to match the curtains, which had cost two pounds 
fifteen shillings apiece and had gone at,the sale for a mere 
nothing. 

These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate’s 
return in her walking dress, when Ralph, who had been fret¬ 
ting and fuming during the whole time of her absence, lost 
no time and used very little ceremony in descending into the 
street. 

“ Now walk as fast as you can, and you’ll get into the 
Step that you’ll have to walk to business with every morning.” 
So saying, he led Kate off at a good round pace. 

“ I am very much obliged to you, uncle,” said the young 
lady, after they had hurried on in silence for some time, 

" very.” 


78 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I’m glad to hear it; I hope you’ll do your duty.” 

“ Uncle,” said Kate, when she judged they must be near 
their destination, “ I must ask one question of you. I am 
to live at home ? ” 

“ At home! Where’s that ? ” 

“ I mean with my mother — the widow.” 

“ You will live, to all intents and purposes, here, for here 
you will take your meals, and here you will be from morning 
till night — occasionally, perhaps, till morning again.” 

“ But at night, I mean,” said Kate; “ I cannot leave her, 
uncle. I must have some place that I can call a home ; it will 
be wherever she is, you know, and may be a very humble 
one.” 

“ May be! ” said Ralph, walking faster, in the impatience 
provoked by the remark, “ must be, you mean. May be a 
humble one! Is the girl crazy? ” 

“ The word slipped from my lips; I did not mean it 
indeed.” 

“ I hope not.” 

“ But my question, uncle; you have not answered it.” 

“ Why, I anticipated something of the kind,” said Ralph; 
“ and — though I object very strongly, mind — have provided 
against it. I spoke of you as an out-of-door worker; so you 
will go to this home, that may be humble, every night.” 

There was comfort in this. Kate poured forth many 
thanks for her uncle’s consideration, which Ralph received 
as if he had deserved them all. They arrived without any 
further conversation at the dressmaker’s door, which dis¬ 
played a very large plate, with Madame Mantalini’s name 
and occupation, and was approached by a handsome flight 
of steps. 

A liveried footman opened the door and, in reply to 
Ralph’s inquiry whether Madame Mantalini was at home, 
ushered them through a handsome hall and up a spacious 


79 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

staircase into a large show room which comprised two spa¬ 
cious drawing-rooms. Here was exhibited an immense 
variety of superb dresses and materials for dresses; some 
arranged on stands, others laid carelessly on sofas, and others 
again scattered oyer the carpet, hanging on the cheval glasses, 
or mingling, in some other way, with the rich furniture of 
various descriptions which was profusely displayed. 

They waited a much longer time than was agreeable to 
Mr. Ralph Nickleby, who eyed the gaudy frippery about 
him with very little concern, and was at length about to 
pull the bell when a gentleman suddenly popped his head into 
the room and, seeing somebody there, as suddenly popped 
it out again. 

“ Here. Hollo! ” cried Ralph. “Who’s that?” 

At the sound of Ralph’s voice, the head reappeared, and 
the mouth, displaying a very long row of very white teeth, 
uttered in a mincing tone the words, “ Demmit. What, 
Nickleby! ^h, demmit! ” Having uttered these ejaculations’ 
the gentleman advanced and shook hands with Ralph, with 
great warmth. He was dressed in a gorgeous morning gown, 
with a waistcoat and Turkish trousers of the same pattern, 
a pink silk neckerchief, and bright green slippers, and had 
a very copious watch chain wound round his body. More¬ 
over, he had whiskers and a moustache, both dyed black and 
gracefully curled. 

“ Demmit, you don’t mean to say you want me, do you, 
demmit ? ” said this gentleman, smiting Ralph on the shoulder. 

u Not yet,” said Ralph, sarcastically. 

“Ha! ha! demmit,” cried the gentleman; when, wheeling 
round to laugh with greater elegance, he encountered Kate 
Nickleby, who was standing near. 

“ My niece,” said Ralph. 

“ I remember,” said the gentleman, striking his nose with 
the knuckle of his forefinger as a chastening for his forget- 


80 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


fulness. “ Demmit, I remember what you come for. Step 
this way, Nickleby. My dear, will you follow me ? Ha! ha! 
They all follow me, Nickleby; always did, demmit, always.” 

Giving loose to the playfulness of his imagination after 
this fashion, the gentleman led the way to. a private sitting 
room on the second floor, scarcely less elegantly furnished 
than the apartment below, where the presence of a silver 
coffee pot, an egg shell, and sloppy china for one seemed to 
show that he had just breakfasted. 

“ Sit down, my dear,” said the gentleman, first staring Miss 
Nickleby out of countenance, and then grinning in delight 
at the achievement. “ This cursed high room takes one’s 
breath away. These infernal sky parlours — I’m afraid I 
must move, Nickleby.” 

“ I would, by all means,” replied Ralph, looking bitterly 
round. 

“ What a demd rum fellow you are, Nickleby,” said the 
gentleman, “ the demdest, longest-headed, queerest-tempered, 
old coiner of gold and silver ever was — demmit.” 

Having complimented Ralph to this effect, the gentleman 
rang the bell and stared at Miss Nickleby until it was 
answered, when he left off to bid the man desire his mistress 
to come directly, after which he began staring again, and 
left off no more until Madame Mantalini appeared. 

The dressmaker was a buxom person, handsomely dressed 
and rather good-looking, but much older than the gentleman 
in the Turkish trousers, whom she had wedded some six 
months before. His name was originally Muntle; but it had 
been converted, by an easy transition, into Mantalini, the 
lady rightly considering that an English name would be of 
serious injury to the business. Her husband’s share in the 
business consisted of spending the money and, occasionally, 
when that ran short, driving to Mr. Ralph Nickleby to pro¬ 
cure discount:—at a percentage — for the customers’ bills. 






































82 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ My life,” said Mr. Mantalini, “ what a demd devil of a 
time you have been! ” 

“ I didn’t even know Mr. Nickleby was here, my love,” 
said Madame Mantalini. 

“ Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman 
must be, my soul,” remonstrated Mr. Mantalini. 

“ My dear,” said madame, “ that is entirely your fault.” 

“My fault, my heart’s joy? ” 

“ Certainly,” returned the lady; “ what can you expect, 
dearest, if you will not correct the man ? ” 

“ Correct the man, my soul’s delight! ” 

“ Yes, I am sure he wants speaking to badly enough,” said 
Madame, pouting. 

“ Then do not vex itself,” said Mr. Mantalini; “ he shall 
be horse-whipped till he cries out demnebly.” With this 
promise Mr. Mantalini kissed Madame Mantalini, and after 
that performance, Madame Mantalini pulled Mr. Mantalini 
playfully by the ear: which done, they descended to business. 

“ Now, ma’am,” said Ralph, who had looked on at all this, 
with such scorn as few men can express in their looks, “ this 
is my niece.” 

“ Just so, Mr. Nickleby,” replied Madame Mantalini, sur¬ 
veying Kate from head to foot and back again. “ Can you 
speak French, child ? ” 

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Kate, not daring to look up; for 
she felt that the eyes of the odious man in the dressing gown 
were directed towards her. 

“ Like a demd native? ” asked the husband. 

Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned 
her back upon the questioner, as if addressing herself to 
make answer to what his wife might demand. 

“We keep twenty young women constantly employed in 
the establishment,” said madame. 

“ Indeed, ma’am,” replied Kate, timidly. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 83 

“ Yes, and some of ’em demd handsome, too,” said the 
master. 

“ Mantalini! ” exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice. 

“ My senses’ idol,” said Mantalini. * 

“ Do you wish to break my heart ? ” 

“ Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with — 
with — with little ballet dancers,” replied Mantalini in a 
poetical strain. 

“ Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,” 
said his wife. “ What can Mr. Nicklebv think when he hears 
you?” 

“Oh! Nothing, ma’am, nothing,” replied Ralph. 
know his amiable nature, and yours.” 

“ You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr. 
Mantalini says,” observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby. 

“I do not, ma’am,” said Kate, with quiet contempt. 

“Mr. Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the 
young women,” continued madame, looking at her husband, 
and speaking to Kate. “ If he has seen any of them, he must 
have seen them in the street, going to or returning from their 
work, and not here. He was never even in the room. I do 
not allow it. What hours of work have you been accustomed 
to?” 

“ I have never yet been accustomed to work at all, ma’am,” 
replied Kate, in a low voice. 

“ For which reason she’ll work all the better now.” said 
Ralph, putting in a word, lest this confession should injure 
the negotiation. 

“I hope so,” returned Madame Mantalini; “our hours 
are from nine to nine, with extra work when we’re very full 
of business, for which I allow payment as overtime.” 

Kate bowed her head to intimate that she heard and was 
satisfied. 

“ Your meals,” continued Madame Mantalini, “ that is, 


84 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

dinner and tea, you will take here. I should think your wages 
would average from five to seven shillings a week; but I 
can’t give you any certain information on that point, until 
I see \Hiat you can do.” 

Kate bowed her head again. 

“ jf you’re ready to come,” said Madame Mantalini, you 
had better begin on Monday morning at nine exactly, and 
Miss Knag the forewoman shall then have directions to try 
you with some easy work at first. Is there anything more, 
Mr. Nickleby ? ” 

“ Nothing more, ma’am,” replied Ralph, rising. 

— ‘ 1 Then I believe that’s all,” said the lady. Having arrived 
at this natural conclusion, she looked at the door, as if she 
wished to be gone, but hesitated notwithstanding, as though 
unwilling to leave Mr. Mantalini the honor of showing them 
downstairs. Ralph relieved her of her perplexity by taking 
his departure without delay, Madame Mantalini making 
many gracious inquiries why he never came to see them, and 
Mr. Mantalini cursing the stairs with great volubility as 
he followed them down in the hope of inducing Kate to look 
round — a hope which was not gratified. 

“ There! ” said Ralph, wdien they were in the street, “ now 
you’re provided for.” Kate was about to thank him again, 
but he stopped her. 

“ I had some idea of providing for your mother in a pleas¬ 
ant part of the country — he was thinking about some poor- 
house, — but as you want to be together, I must do some¬ 
thing else for her. She has a little money? ” 

“ A very little.” 

“ A little vyill go a long way if it’s used sparingly. She 
must see how long she can make it last, living rent free. 
, You leave your lodgings on Saturday ? ” 

“ You told us to do so, uncle.” 

“ Yes, there is a house empty that belongs to me, which I 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


85 


can put you into till it is let; and then, if nothing else turns 
up, perhaps I shall have another. You must live there.” 

“ Is it far from here ? ” 

“ Pretty well, in another quarter of the town — at the 
East End, but I’ll send my clerk to you at five o’clock on 
Saturday to take you there. Good bye. You know your 
way? Straight on.” 

Miss Nickleby’s reflections as she went home and after¬ 
wards were of that desponding nature which the occurrences 
of the morning had awakened. Her uncle’s was not a manner 
likely to dispel any doubts or apprehensions she might have 
formed; neither was the glimpse ^he had had of Madame 
Mantalini’s establishment by any means encouraging. It 
was with many gloomy forebodings and misgivings, there¬ 
fore, that she looked forward with a heavy heart to the 
opening of her new career. 

“ I shall be sorry — truly sorry to leave you, my kind 
friend,” said Kate to the miniature painter. 

“ You shall not shake me off, for all that,” replied Miss La 
Creevy, with as much sprightliness as she could assume. 

“ I shall see you very often and come and hear how you get 
on; and if in all London or all the wide world besides there 
is no other heart that takes an interest in your welfare, , 
there will be one little lonely woman that prays for it night 
and day.” 

With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for 
the guardian genius of London, after making a great many 
extraordinary faces which would have secured her an ample 
fortune, could she have transferred them to ivory or canvas, 
sat down in a corner, and had what she termed “ 4 real good 
cry.” 

But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing could keep 
off that dreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs 
either, who, punctual to his time, limped up to the door, 


86 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


exactly as the church clock in the neighbourhood struck 
five. Newman waited for the last stcoke and then knocked. 

“ From Mr. Ralph Nickleby,” said Newman, announcing 
his errand, when he got upstairs. 

“ We shall be ready directly/’ said Kate. “ We have not 
much to carry, but I fear we must have a coach.” 

“ I’ll get one,” replied Newman. 

, “ Indeed you shall not trouble yourself,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

“ I will,” said Newman. 

“ I can’t suffer you to think of such a thing,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. # 

“ You can’t help it,” said Newman. 

“ Not help it! ” 

“No; I thought of it as I came along; but didn’t get one, 
thinking you mightn’t be ready. I think of a great many 
things. Nobody can prevent that.” 

“ Oh yes, I understand you, Mr. Noggs,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. “ Our thoughts are free, of course. Everybody’s 
thoughts are their own, clearly.” 

“ They wouldn’t be if some people had their way,” muttered 
Newman. 

“ Well, no more they would, Mr. Noggs, and that’s very 
true,” rejoined Mrs. Nickleby. “ Some people to be sure 
are such — How’s your master ? ” 

Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate and replied 
with a strong emphasis on the last word of his answer that 
Mr. Ralph Nickleby was well and sent his love. 

“ I am sure we are very much obliged to him,” observed 
Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ Very,” said Newman. “ I’ll tell him so.” 

They went into the City, turning down by the riverside. 
After a long and very slow drive, the streets being crowded 
at that hour with vehicles of every kind, they stopped in 


87 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

front of a large old dingy house, the door and windows of 
which were so bespattered with mud that it looked as if it had 
been uninhabited for years. 

The door of this deserted mansion Newman opened with a 
key which he took out of his hat — in which, by the by, 
in consequence of the dilapidated state of his pockets, he 
deposited everything, and would most likely have carried 
his money if he had had any. The coach being discharged, 
he led the way into the interior of the mansion. 

Old and gloomy and black it was, and sullen and dark 
were the rooms, once so bustling with life and enterprise. 
There was a wharf behind, opening on the Thames. An 
empty dog kennel, some bones of animals, fragments of iron 
hoops, and staves of old casks lay strewn about, but no life 
was stirring there. It was a picture of cold, silent decay. 

“ This house depresses and chills one,” said Kate. “ and 
seems as if some blight had fallen on it. If I were super¬ 
stitious, I should be almost inclined to believe that some 
dreadful crime had been perpetrated within these old walls 
and that the place had never prospered since. How frowning 
and how dark it looks! ” 

“ Lord, my dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, “ don’t talk in 
that way, or you’ll frighten me to death.” 

“ It is only my foolish fancy, mama,” said Kate, forcing 
a smile. 

“ Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish 
fancy to yourself and not wake up my foolish fancy to keep 
it company. Why didn’t you think of all this before? 
You are so careless. We might have asked Miss La Creevy 
to keep us company or borrowed a dog, or a thousand things 
— but it always was the way, and was just the same with your 

poor dear father. Unless I thought of everything-” 

This was Mrs. Nickleby’s usual commencement of a general 
lamentation, running through a dozen or so of complicated 


88 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

sentences addressed to nobody in particular and into which 
she now launched until her breath was exhausted. 

Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but preceded 
them to a couple of rooms on the first floor. Some kind of 
attempt had been made to render these habitable. In one 
were a few chairs, a table, an old hearth rug, and some faded 
draperies. A fire was ready laid in the grate. In the other 
stood an old tent bedstead and a few scanty articles of bed¬ 
room furniture. 

“ Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, trying to be pleased, 
“ now isn’t this thoughtful and considerate of your uncle ? 
Why, we should not have had anything but the bed we bought 
yesterday to lie down upon, if it hadn’t been for his thought¬ 
fulness! ” 

“ Very kind, indeed,” replied Kate, looking round. 

Newman Noggs did not say that he had hunted up the 
old furniture they saw, from attic and cellar, or that he 
had taken in the halfpennyworth of milk for tea that stood 
upon a shelf, or filled the rusty kettle on the hob, or collected 
the wood chips from the wharf, or begged the coals. But 
the notion of Ralph Nickleby having directed it to be done 
tickled his fancy so much that he could not refrain from 
cracking all his ten fingers in succession, at which perform¬ 
ance Mrs. Nickleby was rather startled. 

“ We need detain you no longer, I think,” said Kate. 

“ Is there nothing I can do? ” asked Newman. 

“ Nothing, thank you,” rejoined Miss Nickleby. 

“ Perhaps, my dear, Mr. Noggs would like to drink our 
healths,” said Mrs. Nickleby, fumbling in her bag for some 
small coin. 

“ I think, mama,” said Kate, hesitating, and remarking 
Newman’s averted face, “ you would hurt his feelings if you 
offered it.” 

Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like a 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


89 


gentleman than the miserable wretch he seemed, placed his 
hand upon his breast and, pausing for a moment, with the 
air of a man who struggles to speak but is uncertain what to 
say, quitted the room. 

As the jarring echoes of the heavy house door, closing on 
its latch, reverberated dismally through the building, Kate 
felt half tempted to call him back and beg him to remain a 
little while; but she was ashamed to own her fears, and New¬ 
man Noggs was on his road homewards. 


CHAPTER VIII 


I T was fortunate for Miss Fanny Squeers that, when her 
worthy papa returned home on the night of the small tea 
party, he was what is called “ too far gone ” with liquor to 
observe the tokens of vexation of spirit in her countenance. 
Being, however, of a rather violent and quarrelsome mood in 
his cups, it is not impossible that he might have fallen out 
with her, either on this or some imaginary topic, if the young 
lady had not kept a boy up, on purpose, to bear the first 
brunt of the good gentleman’s anger; which, having vented 
itself in a variety of kicks and cuffs, subsided sufficiently to 
admit of his being persuaded to go to bed. This Mr. Squeers 
did, with his boots on and an umbrella uncler his arm. 

The hungry servant attended Fanny Squeers in her own 
room according to custom, to curl her hair, perform other 
little offices for her, and administer as much flattery as she 
could get up for the purpose. 

“ How lovely your hair do curl tonight, miss! ” said the 
handmaiden. “ I declare if it isn’t a pity and a shame to 
brush it out! ” 

“ Hold your tongue! ” 

“ Well, I couldn’t help saying, miss, if you was to kill me 
for it,” said the attendant, “ that I never see nobody look so 
vulgar as Miss Price this night.” 

Miss Squeers sighed and composed herself to listen. 

“ I know it’s wrong in me to say so, miss,” continued the 
girl, delighted to see the impression she was making, “ Miss 
Price being a friend of your’n, and all; but she do dress 

90 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


91 


* 


herself out so, and go on in such a manner to get noticed, 
that — oh, well — if people only saw themselves! ” 

“ What do you mean, Phib ? ” asked Miss Squeers, looking 
in her own little glass, where, like most of us, she saw — not 
herself but the reflection of some pleasant image in her own 
brain. “ How you talk! ” 

“ Talk, miss! It’s enough to make a tomcat talk French 
grammar only to see how she tosses her head.” 

“ She does toss her head,” observed Miss Squeers, with an 
air of abstraction. 

“ So vain, and so very, very plain,” said the girl. 

“ Poor ’Tilda ”! sighed Miss Squeers, compassionately. 

“ And always laying herself out so to get to be admired,” 
pursued the servant. “ Oh, dear! It’s positive indelicate.” 

“ I can’t allow you to talk in that way, Phib,” said Miss 
Squeers. “ ’Tilda’s friends are low people; and if she don’t 
know any better, it’s their fault, and not hers.” 

“ Well, but you know, miss,” said Phoebe, for which name 
u Phib ” was used as a patronising abbreviation, “ if she was 
only to take copy by a friend — oh! if she only knew how 
wrong she was, and would but set herself right by you, what 
a nice young woman she might be in time! ” 

“ Phib,” rejoined Miss Squeers, with a stately air, “ it’s 
not proper for me to hear these comparisons drawn; they 
make ’Tilda look a coarse improper sort of person, and it 
seems unfriendly in me to listen to them. I would rather 
you dropped the subject, Phib; at the same time, I must 
say that if ’Tilda Price would take pattern by somebody — 
not me particularly-” 

“ Oh yes; you, miss.” 

“ Well, me, Phib, if you will have it so. I must say that, 
if she would, she would be all the better for it.” 

“ So somebody else thinks, or I am much mistaken,” said 
the girl, mysteriously. 


92 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ What do you mean? ” 

“Never mind, miss,” replied the girl; “I know what I 
know; that’s all.” 

“ Phib,” said Miss Squeers dramatically, “ I insist upon 
your explaining yourself. What is this dark mystery? 
Speak.” 

“ Why, if you will have it, miss, it’s this,” said the servant 
girl. “ Mr. John Browdie thinks as you think; and if he 
wasn’t too far gone to do it creditable, he’d be very glad to 
be off with Miss Price and on with Miss Squeers.” 

“ Gracious heavens! ” exclaimed Miss Squeers, clasping 
her hands with great dignity. “ What is this ? ” 

“ Truth, ma’am, and nothing but truth,” replied the artful 
Phib. 

“ What a situation! ” cried Miss Squeers; “ on the brink 
of unconsciously destroying the peace and happiness of my 
own ’Tilda. What is the reason that men fall in love with 
me, whether I like it or not, and desert their chosen intendeds 
for my sake ? ” 

“ Because they can’t help it, miss,” replied the girl; “ the 
reason’s plain.” 

“Never let me hear of it again,” retorted Miss Squeers. 
“Never! Do you hear? ’Tilda Price has faults —many 
faults — but I wish her well, and above all, I wish her married. 
No, Phib. Let her have Mr. Browdie. I may pity him, poor 
fellow; but I have a great regard for ’Tilda, and only hope 
she may make a better wife than I think she will.” 

With this effusion of feeling, Miss Squeers went to bed. 

When a knock came at the front door next day and the 
miller’s daughter was announced, Miss Squeers betook herself 
to the parlour in a Christian frame of spirit, perfectly beau¬ 
tiful to behold. 

“ Well, Fanny,” said the miller’s daughter, “ you see I have 
come to see you, although we had some words last night.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


93 


“ I pity your bad passions, ’Tilda, but I bear no malice. 
I am above it.” 

“ Don’t be cross, Fanny. I have come to tell you some¬ 
thing that I know will please you.” 

“ What may that be, ’Tilda?” demanded Miss Squeers, 
screwing up her lips, and looking as if nothing in earth, air, 
fire, or water, could afford her the slightest gleam of satis¬ 
faction. 

“ This: after we left here last night, John and I had a dread¬ 
ful quarrel.” 

“ That doesn’t please me,” said Miss Squeers, relaxing into 
a smile, though. 

“ Lor! I wouldn’t think so bad of you as to suppose it 
did. That’s not it.” 

“ Oh! ” said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy. 
“ Go on.” 

“ After a great deal of wrangling and saying we would 
never see each other again, we made it up, and this morning 
John went and wrote our names down to be put up, for the 
first time, next Sunday; so we shall be married in three weeks, 
and I give you notice to get your dress made* to wear as 
bridesmaid. 

There was mingled gall and honey in this intelligence. The 
prospect of the friend’s being married so soon was the gall, 
and the certainty of her not entertaining serious designs upon 
Nicholas was the honey. Upon the whole, the sweet greatly 
preponderated over the bitter; so Miss Squeers said she would 
get the dress made and that she hoped ’Tilda might be happy, 
though at the same time she didn’t know and would not have 
her build too much upon it; for men were strange creatures, 
and a great many married women were very miserable, and 
wished themselves single again with all their hearts. 

“ But come now, Fanny,” said Miss Price, “ I want to have 
a word or two with you about young Mr. Nickleby.” 


94 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ He is nothing to me,” interrupted Miss Squeers, with 
hysterical symptoms. “ I despise him too much! ” 

“ Oh, you don’t mean that, I am sure? ” rephed her friend. 
“ Confess, Fanny; don’t you like him now? ” 

Without returning any direct reply, Miss Squeers all at 
once fell into a paroxysm of spiteful tears and exclaimed that 
she was a wretched, neglected, miserable castaway. 

“ I hate everybody,” said Miss Squeers, “ and I wish that 
everybody was dead — that I do.” 

“ Dear, dear,” said Miss Price, quite moved by this senti¬ 
ment. “ You are not serious, I am sure.” 

“ Yes, I am,” rejoined Miss Squeers, tying tight knots in 
her pocket handkerchief and clenching her teeth. “ And I 
wish I was dead too. There! ” 

“ Oh! you’ll think very differently in another five minutes,” 
said Matilda. “ How much better to take him into favour 
again than to hurt yourself by going on in that way. Wouldn’t 
it be much nicer now, to have him all to yourself on good 
terms, in a company keeping, love making, pleasant sort of 
manner? ” 

“ I don’t 'know but what it would,” sobbed Miss Squeers. 
“ Oh! ’Tilda, how could you have acted so mean and dis¬ 
honourable ! I wouldn’t have believed it of you, if anybody 
had told me.” 

“ Heyday! ” exclaimed Miss Price, giggling. “ One would 
suppose I had been murdering somebody at least.” 

“Very nigh as bad,” said Miss Squeers passionately. 

However, the two girls “ made up ” and planned for ’Tilda’s 
wedding. When it was time for Miss Price to return home, 
Miss Squeers walked part way with her. 

It happened that this was the hour when Nicholas was 
accustomed to issue forth for a melancholy walk and to brood, 
as he sauntered listlessly through the village, upon his miser¬ 
able lot. Miss Squeers knew this perfectly well, but had 


95 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY* 

perhaps forgotten it; for when she caught sight of that young 
gentleman advancing towards them, she evinced many 
symptoms of surprise and consternation, and assured her 
friend that she felt “ fit to drop into the earth.” 

“ Shall we turn back, or run into a cottage ? ” asked Miss 
Price. “ He don’t see us yet.” 

" No, ’Tilda, it is my duty to go through with it, and I 
will! ” 

As Miss Squeers said this, in the tone of one who has made 
a high moral resolution and was, besides, taken with one or 
two chokes and catchings of breath, her friend made no 
other remark, and they bore straight down upon Nicholas, 
who, walking with his eyes bent upon the ground, was 
not aware of their approach until they were close upon 
him; otherwise he might, perhaps, have taken shelter him¬ 
self. 

“ Good morning,” said Nicholas, bowing and passing by. 

“ He is going,” murmured Miss Squeers. “ I shall choke, 
’Tilda.” 

“ Come back, Mr. Nickleby, do! ” cried Miss Price, affect¬ 
ing alarm at her friend’s threat, but really actuated by a 
malicious wish to hear what Nicholas would say; “ come 
back, Mr. Nickleby! ” 

Mr. Nickleby came back and looked as confused as might 
be, as he inquired whether the ladies had any commands for 
him. 

V. 

“Don’t stop to talk,” urged Miss Price, hastily; “but 
support her on the other side. How do you feel now, dear? ” 

“ Better,” sighed Miss Squeers, laying a beaver bonnet of 
a reddish brown, with a green veil attached, on Mr. Nickleby’s 
shoulder. “ This foolish faintness! ” 

“ Don’t call it foolish, dear,” said Miss Price: her bright 
eye dancing with merriment as she saw the perplexity of 
Nicholas; “you have no reason to be ashamed of it. It’s 


96 "NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

those who are too proud to come round again, without all 
this to-do, that ought to be ashamed.” 

“ You are resolved to fix it. upon me, I see,” said Nicholas, 
smiling, “ although I told you last night it was not my fault.” 

“ There — he says it was not his fault, my dear,” remarked 
the wicked Miss Price. “ Perhaps you were too jealous, or too 
hasty with him? He says it was not his fault. You hear; I 
think that’s apology enough.” 

“ You will not understand me,” said Nicholas. “ Please 
dispense with this jesting, for I have no time, and realty no 
inclination, to be the subject or promoter of mirth just now.” 

“ What do you mean? ” asked Miss Price, affecting amaze¬ 
ment. 

“ Don’t ask him, ’Tilda; I forgive him.” 

“ Dear me,” said Nicholas, as the brown bonnet went down 
on his shoulder again, “ this is more serious than I supposed. 
Allow me! Will you have the goodness to hear me speak ? ” 

Here he raised up the brown bonnet and, regarding with 
astonishment a look of tender reproach from Miss Squeers, 
shrunk back a few paces to be out of the reach of the fair 
burden, and went on to say: 

“ I am very sorry — truly and sincerely sorry — for having 
been the cause of any difference among jmu last night. I 
reproach myself most bitterly for having been so unfortunate 
as to cause the dissension that occurred, although I did so, 
I assure you, most unwittingly and heedlessly.” 

“Well; that’s not all you have got to say, surety,” ex¬ 
claimed Miss Price, as Nicholas paused. 

“I fear there is something more,” stammered Nicholas, 
with a half smile, and looking toward Miss Squeers, “ it is a 
most awkward thing to say — but still may I ask if 
that lady supposes that I entertain any —in short —does 
she think that I am in love with her? ” 

“Delightful embarrassment,” thought Miss Squeers, “I 


97 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

have brought him to it at last. Answer for me, dear,” she 
whispered to her friend. 

“ Does she think so? ” rejoined Miss Price; “ of course she 
does.” 

“ She does! ” exclaimed Nicholas with such energy of utter¬ 
ance as might have been, for the moment, mistaken for 
rapture. 

“ Certainly,” replied Miss Price. 

“ If Mr. Nickleby has doubted that, Tilda,” said the blush¬ 
ing Miss Squeers in soft accents, u he may set his mind at 
rest. His sentiments are recipro—:—” 

“ Stop,” cried Nicholas hurriedly; “ please hear me. This 
is the grossest and wildest delusion, the completest and most 
signal mistake that ever human being laboured under, or 
committed. I have scarcely seen the young lady half a dozen 
times; but if I had seen her sixty times, or am destined to 
see her sixty thousand, it would be, and will be, precisely 
the same. I have not one thought, wash, or hope connected 
with her, unless it be — and I say this not to hurt her feelings, 
but to impress her with the real state of my own unless 
it be the one object, dear to my heart as life itself, of being 
one day able to turn my back upon this accursed place, 
never to set foot in it again, or think of it even think of it 
— but with loathing and disgust.” 

With this plain and straightforward declaration, Nicholas, 
waiting to hear no more, retreated. 

But poor Miss Squeers! Her anger, rage, and vexation — 
the rapid succession of bitter and passionate feelings that 
whirled through her mind —are not to be described. Re¬ 
fused ! Refused by a teacher, picked up by advertisement at 
an annual salary of five pounds payable at indefinite periods, 
and “ found ” in food and lodging like the very boys them¬ 
selves; and this too in the presence of a little chit of a 
miller’s daughter of eighteen, who was going to be married 


98 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


in three weeks’ time to a man who had gone down on his 
very knees to ask her! She could have choked in right good 
earnest at the thought of being so humbled. 

But there was one thing clear in the midst of her mortifica¬ 
tion, and that was that she hated and detested Nicholas with 
all the narrowness of mind and littleness of purpose worthy 
a descendant of the house of Squeers. And there was one 
comfort, too; and that was that every hour in every day 
she could wound his pride and goad him with the infliction 
of some slight or insult. With these two reflections upper¬ 
most in her mind, Miss Squeers made the best of the matter 
to her friend, by observing that Mr. Nickleby was such an 
odd creature and of such a violent temper that she feared 
she should be obliged to give him up, and parted from 
her. 

“ Let him see,” said the irritated young lady, when she had 
regained her own room, “ if I don’t set mother against him a 
little more when she comes back! ” 

It was scarcely necessary to do this, but Miss Squeers was 
as good as her word; and poor Nicholas, in addition to bad 
food and dirty lodging, was treated with every special in¬ 
dignity that malice could suggest. 

Nor was this all. There was another and deeper system 
of annoyance which made his heart sink and nearly drove 
him wild by its injustice and cruelty. 

The wretched creature, Smike, since the night Nicholas 
had spoken kindly to him in the schoolroom, had followed him 
to and fro with an ever-restless desire to serve or help him, 
anticipating such little wants as his humble ability could 
supply and content only to be near him. He would sit beside 
him for hours, looking patiently into his face; and a word 
would brighten up his careworn face and call into it a passing 
gleam even of happiness. He was an altered being; he had 
an object now; and that object was to show his attachment to 


99 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

the only person — that person a stranger — who had treated 
him, not to say with kindness, but like a human creature. 

Upon this poor being, all the spleen and ill humour that 
could not be vented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed. 
Drudgery would have been nothing — Smike was well used 
to that. Buffetings inflicted without cause would have been 
equally a matter of course; for to them also he had served a 
long and weary apprenticeship; but it was no sooner observed 
that he had become attached to Nicholas than stripes and 
blows, stripes and blows, morning, noon, and night, were his 
only portion. Squeers w T as jealous of the influence which his. 
man had so soon acquired, and his family hated him, and 
Smike paid for both. Nicholas saw it, and ground his teeth 
at every repetition of the savage and cowardly act. 

He had arranged a few regular lessons for the boys. One 
night as he paced up and down the dismal schoolroom, his 
swollen heart almost bursting to think that he should have 
increased the misery of the wretched being whose peculiar 
destitution had awakened his pity, he paused mechanically 
in a dark corner where sat the object of his thoughts. 

The poor soul was poring hard over a tattered book, with 
the traces of recent tears still upon his face; vainly endeavour¬ 
ing to master some task which a child of nine years old could 
have conquered with ease, but which, to the addled brain of 
the crushed boy of nineteen, was a sealed and hopeless 
mystery. Yet there he sat, patiently conning the page again 
and again, stimulated by no boyish ambition, for he was the 
common jest and scoff even of the uncouth objects that 
congregated about him, but inspired by the one eager desire 
to please his solitary friend. 

Nicholas laid his hand upon his shoulder. 

“ I can’t do it,” said the dejected creature, looking up with 
bitter disappointment in every feature. “ No, no.” 

“ Do not try,” replied Nicholas. 


100 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

The boy shook his head, and closing the book with a sigh, 
looked vacantly round, and laid his head upon his arm. 
He was weeping. 

“ Do not, for God’s sake,” said Nicholas, in an agitated 
voice; “ I cannot bear to see you.” 

“ They are more hard with me than ever,” sobbed the 

boy. 

“ I know it,” rejoined Nicholas; “ they are. 

“ But for you,” said the outcast, “ I should die. They 
would kill me; they would; I know they would.” 

“ You will do better, poor fellow,” replied Nicholas, shaking 
his head mournfully, “ when I am gone. 

“ Gone! ” cried the other, looking intently in his face. 

“ Softly! ” rejoined Nicholas. “ Yes.” 

“ Are you going?” demanded the boy, in an earnest 

whisper. 

“ I cannot say,” replied Nicholas. “ I was speaking more 
to my own thoughts than to you.” 

“ Tell me,” said the boy imploringly, “ oh do tell me, will 
you go — will you ? ” 

“ I shall be driven to that at last! ” said Nicholas. “ The 
world is before me, after all.” 

“ Tell me,” urged Smike, “ is the world as bad and dismal 
as this place?” 

“ Heaven forbid,” replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of 
his own thoughts; “ its hardest, coarsest toil were happiness 
to this.” 

“ Should I ever meet you there?” demanded the boy, 
speaking with unusual wildness and volubility. 

“ Yes,” replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him. 

“ No, no! ” said the other, clasping him by the hand. 
“ Should I — should I — tell me that again. Say I should 
be sure to find you.” 

“ You would,” replied Nicholas, with the same humane 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


101 


intention, “ and I would help and aid you, and not bring 
fresh sorrow on you as I have done here” 

The boy caught both the young man’s hands passionately 
in his and, hugging them to his breast, uttered a few broken 
sounds which were unintelligible. Squeers entered, at the 
moment, and he shrunk back into his old corner. 


CHAPTER IX 


I T was with a heavy heart and many sad forebodings that 
Kate Nickleby left the city when its clocks yet wanted a 
quarter of an hour of eight and threaded her way alone, amid 
the noise and bustle of the streets, towards the West End of 
London. 

She arrived at Madame Mantalini’s some minutes before 
the appointed hour. After walking a few times up and down, 
in the hope that some other girl or woman might arrive and 
spare her the embarrassment of stating her business to the 
servant, she knocked timidly at the door, which, after some 
delay, was opened by the footman, who had been putting on 
his striped jacket as he came upstairs and was now intent 
on fastening his apron. 

“ Is Madame Mantalini in ? ” asked Kate. 

“ Not often out at this time, miss.” 

“ Can I see her? ” 

“ Eh ? ” replied the man, holding the door in his hand, 
and honouring the inquirer with a stare and a broad grin, 
“ Lord, no.” 

“ I came by her own appointment; I am — I am — to be 
employed here.” 

“ Oh! you should have rung the worker’s bell,” said the 
footman, touching the handle of one in the door post. “ Let 
me see, though, I forgot — Miss Nickleby, is it? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You’re to walk upstairs then, please. Madame Mantalini 
wants to see you — this way — take care of these things on 
the floor.” 

Cautioning her in these terms not to trip over a litter of 
102 


103 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

pastry cook’s trays, lamps, and waiters full of glasses, which 
were strewn about the hall, plainly bespeaking a late party 
on the previous night, the man led the way to the second story 
and ushered Kate into a back room, communicating by 
folding doors with the apartment in which she had first 
seen the mistress of the establishment. 

If you’ll wait here a minute, I’ll tell her presently.” 
Having made this promise with much affability, he retired 
and left Kate alone. 

There was not much to amuse in the room, of which the 
most attractive feature was a half-length portrait in oil of 
Mr. Mantalini, whom the artist had depicted scratching his 
head in an easy manner and thus displaying to advantage a 
diamond ring, the gift of Madame Mantalini before her 
marriage. There was, however, the sound of voices in con¬ 
versation in the next room; and as the conversation was 
loud and the partition thin, Kate could not help discovering 
that they belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Mantalini. 

“ If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrigeously jealous, 
my soul,” said Mr. Mantalini, “ you will be very miserable 
— horrid miserable — demnition miserable.” And then there 
was a sound as though Mr. Mantalini were sipping his coffee. 

“ I am miserable,” returned Madame Mantalini, evidently 
pouting. 

“ Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful 
little fairy.” 

“ I am not,” returned Madame, with a sob. 

“ Ho not put itself out of humour,” said Mr. Mantalini, 
breaking an egg. “It is a pretty, bewitching little demd 
countenance; and it should not be out of humour, for it spoils 
its loveliness, and makes it cross and gloomy like a frightful, 
naughty, demd hobgoblin.” 

“ I am not to be brought round in that way always,” re¬ 
joined Madame, sulkily. 


104 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and 
not brought round at all if it likes that better,” retorted 
Mr. Mantalini, with his egg spoon in his mouth. 

“ It’s very easy to talk.” 

“ Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg, for the 
yolk runs down the waistcoat, and yolk of egg does not 
match any waistcoat but a yellow waistcoat, demmit.” 

“ You were flirting with her during the whole night,” said 
Madame Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the con¬ 
versation back to the point from which it had strayed. 

“ No, no, my life.” 

“ You were. I had my eye upon you all the time.” 

“ Bless the little, winking, twinking eye; was it on me all 
the time! ” cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. “ Oh, 
demmit! ” 

“ And I say once more, that you ought not to waltz with 
anybody but your own wife; and I will not bear it, Mantalini, 
if I take poison first.” 

“ She will not take poison and have horrid pains, will she ? ” 
said Mantalini, who, by the altered sound of his voice, seemed 
to have moved his chair and taken up his position nearer to 
his wife. “ She will not take poison, because she had a demd 
fine husband who might have married two countesses and a 
dowager-” 

“ Two countesses! You told me one before! ” 

“ Two! Two demd fine women, real countesses and splen¬ 
did fortunes, demmit.” 

“ And why didn’t you? ” asked madame, playfully. 

“ Why didn’t I! Had I not seen, at a morning concert, 
the demdest little fascinator in all the world, and while that 
little fascinator is my wife, may not all the countesses and 
dowagers in England be-” 

Mr. Mantalini did not finish the sentence, but he gave 
Madame Mantalini a very loud kiss, which Madame Man- 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


105 


talini returned, after which there seemed to be some more 
kissing mixed up with the progress of the breakfast. 

“And what about the cash, my existence’s jewel?” said 
Mantalini, when these endearments ceased. “ How much 
have we in hand ? ” 

“ Very little indeed.” 

“ We must have some more; we must have some discount 
out of old Nickleby to carry on the war with, demmit.” 

“ You can’t want any more just now,” said Madame, coax- 
ingly. 

“My life and soul, there is a horse for sale at Scrubbs’s, 
which it would be a sin and a crime to lose — going, my 
senses’ joy, for nothing.” 

“ For nothing, I am glad of that.” 

“ For actually nothing; a hundred guineas down will buy 
him; mane, and crest, and legs, and tail, all of the demdest 
beauty. I will ride him in the park before the very chariots 
of the rejected countesses. The demd old dowager will faint 
with grief and rage; the other two will say * He is married, he 
has made away with himself, it is a demd thing, it is all up! 
They will hate each other demnebly, and wish you dead and 
buried. Ha! ha! Demmit.” 

Madame Mantalini’s prudence, if she had any, was not 
proof against these triumphal pictures; after a little jingling 
of keys, she observed that she would see what her desk con¬ 
tained, and, rising for that purpose, opened the folding door 
and walked into the room where Kate was seated. 

“ Dear me, child! ” exclaimed Madame Mantalini, recoiling 
in surprise. “ How came you here? ” 

“Child! ” cried Mantalini, hurrying in. “How came — 
eh! — oh — demmit, how d’ye do ? ” 

“ I have ,been waiting here some time, ma’am,” said Kate, 
addressing Madame Mantalini. “The servant must have 
forgotten to let you know that I was here, I think. 


106 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ You really must see to that man,” said madame, turning 
to her husband. “ He forgets everything.” 

“ I will twist his demd nose off his demd countenance for 
leaving such a very pretty creature all alone by herself.” 

“ Mantalini, you forget yourself.” 

“ I don’t' forget you, my soul, and never shall, and never 
can,” said Mantalini, kissing his wife’s hand, and grimacing 
aside to Miss Nickleby, who turned away. 

Appeased by this compliment, the lady of the business 
took some papers from her desk, which she handed over 
to Mr. Mantalini, who received them with great delight. 
She then requested Kate to follow her, and after several 
attempts on the part of Mr. Mantalini to attract the young 
lady’s attention, they went away, leaving that gentleman 
extended at full length on the sofa, with his heels in the air 
and a newspaper in his hand. 

Madame Mantalini led the way down a flight of stairs and 
through a passage to a large room at the back of the 
premises, where were a number of young women employed in 
sewing, cutting out, making up, altering, and various other 
processes. 

On Madame Mantalini calling aloud for Miss Knag, a 
short, bustling, overdressed female, full of importance, pre¬ 
sented herself; and all the young ladies, suspending their 
operations for the moment, whispered to each other sundry 
criticisms upon the make and texture of Miss Nickleby’s 
dress, her complexion, cast of features, and personal appear¬ 
ance. 

“ Oh, Miss Knag,” said Madame Mantalini, “ this is the 
young person I spoke about.” 

Miss Knag bestowed a reverential smile upon Madame 
Mantalini, which she transformed into a gracious one for 
Kate, and said that, although it was a great deal of trouble 
to have young people who were wholly unused to the business, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 107 

still, she was sure the young person would try to do her 
best.” 

“ I think that, for the present at all events, it will be 
better for Miss Nickleby to come into the show room with 
you, and try things on for people,” said Madame Mantalini. 
“ She will not be able for the present to be of much use 
in any other way; and her appearance will-” 

“Suit very well with mine, Madame Mantalini,” inter¬ 
rupted Miss Knag. “ So it will; and to be sure I might have 
known that you would not be long in finding that out; for 
you have so much taste in all those matters. Miss Nickleby 
and I are quite a pair, Madame Mantalini, only I am a little 
darker than Miss Nickleby, and — hem — I think my foot 
may be a little smaller. Miss Nickleby, I am sure, will not 
be offended at my saying that, when she hears that our family 
always have been celebrated for small feet ever since — hem 
— ever since our family had any feet at all, indeed, I think.” 

“ You’ll take care that Miss Nickleby understands her hours 
and so forth,” said Madame Mantalini; “and so I’ll lea^e 
her with you. You’ll not forget my directions, Miss Knag? ” 

Miss Knag, of course, replied that to forget anything 
Madame Mantalini had directed was a moral impossibility; 
and that lady, dispensing a general good morning among 
her assistants, sailed away. 

“ Charming creature, isn’t she, Miss Nickleby? ” said Miss 
Knag rubbing her hands together. 

“ I have seen very little of her. I hardly know yet.” 

“Have you seen Mr. Mantalini?” 

“ Yes, I have seen him twice.” 

“ Isn’t he a charming creature ? ” 

“ Indeed, he does not strike me as being so, by any means.” 

“No, my dear! ” cried Miss Knag, elevating her hands. 
“ Why, goodness, gracious mercy, where’s your taste? Such 
a fine, tall, full-whiskered, dashing, gentlemanly man, with 


108 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

such teeth and hair, and — hem — well now, you do astonish 
me.” 

“ I dare say I am very foolish,” replied Kate, laying aside 
her bonnet; “ but as my opinion is of very little importance 
to him or any one else, I do not regret having formed it, and 
shall be slow to change it, I think.” 

“ He is a very fine man, don’t you think so? ” asked one 
of the young ladies. 

“ Indeed he may be, for anything I could say to the con¬ 
trary,” replied Kate. 

“ And drives very beautiful horses, doesn’t he ? ” inquired 
another. 

“ I dare say he may, but I never saw them,” answered Kate. 

“ Never saw them! ” interposed Miss Knag. “ Oh, well! 
There it is at once, you know; how can you possibly pro¬ 
nounce an opinion about a gentleman — hem — if you don’t 
see him as he turns out altogether ? ” 

Kate, who was anxious to change the subject, made no 
further remark, and left Miss Knag in possession of the field. 

After a short silence, during which most of the young people 
made a closer inspection of Kate’s appearance and com¬ 
pared notes respecting it, one of them offered to help her 
off with her shawl, and the offer being accepted, inquired 
whether she did not find black very uncomfortable to wear. 

“ I do indeed,” replied Kate, with a bitter sigh. She could 
not quite restrain her tears. 

“ I am very sorry to have wounded you by my thoughtless 
speech,” said her companion. “ I did not think of it. You 
are in mourning for some near relation? ” 

“ For my father.” 

“ For what relation, Miss Simmonds ? ” asked Miss Knag 
in an audible voice. 

“ Her father,” replied the other softly. 

“ Her father, eh? ” said Miss Knag, without the slightest 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 109 

depression of her voice. “Ah! A long illness, Miss Sim- 
monds ? ” 

“Hush,” replied the girl; “I don’t know.” 

“ Our misfortune was very sudden,” said Kate, turning 
away, “ or I might perhaps, at a time like this, be enabled 
to support it better.” 

There had existed not a little desire in the room, according 
to invariable custom when any new “ young person ” came, 
to know who Kate was and wffiat she was, and all about her; 
but although it might have been very naturally increased 
by her appearance and emotion, the knowledge that it pained 
her to be questioned was sufficient to repress even this curi¬ 
osity; and Miss Knag, finding it hopeless to attempt ex¬ 
tracting any further particulars just then, reluctantly com¬ 
manded silence, and bade the work proceed. 

In silence, then, the tasks were plied until half-past one, 
when a baked leg of mutton, with potatoes to correspond, 
were served in the kitchen. The meal over, and the young 
ladies having enjoyed the additional relaxation of washing 
their hands, the work began again, and was again performed 
in silence until the noise of carriages rattling through the 
streets and of loud double knocks at doors, gave token that 
the day’s work of the more fortunate members of society 
was proceeding in its turn. 

One of these double knocks at Madame Mantalini’s door 
announced the equipage of some great lady — or rather rich 
one, for there is occasionally a distinction between riches 
and greatness — who had come with her daughter to ap¬ 
prove of some court dresses which had been a long time 
preparing, and upon whom Kate was deputed to wait, ac¬ 
companied by Miss Knag, and officered of course by Madame 
Mantalini. 

Kate’s part in the pageant was humble enough, her duties 
being limited to holding articles of costume until Miss Knag 


110 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


was ready to try them on, and now and then tying a string, 
or fastening a hook and eye. She might not unreasonably 
have supposed herself beneath the reach of any arrogance 
or bad humour; but it happened that two customers, a lady 
and daughter, were both out of temper that day and the poor 
girl came in for her share of their revilings. She was awk¬ 
ward— her hands were cold — dirty — coarse — she could 
do nothing right; they wondered how Madame Mantalini 
could have such people about her, requested that they might 
see some other young woman the next time they came, and 
so forth. 

So common an occurrence would be hardly deserving of 
mention, but for its effect. Kate shed many bitter tears 
when these people were gone, and felt, for the first time, 
humbled by her occupation. She had, it is true, quailed 
at the prospect of drudgery and hard service; but she had 
felt no degradation in working for her bread, until she found 
herself exposed to insolence and pride. Philosophy would 
have taught her that the degradation was on the side of 
those who had sunk so low as to display such passions 
habitually and without cause; but she was too young for 
consolation, and her honest feeling was hurt. May not the 
complaint that common people are above their station often 
take its rise in the fact of uncommon people being below 
theirs ? 

In such scenes and occupations the time wore on until 
nine o’clock, when Kate, jaded and dispirited with the oc¬ 
currences of the day, hastened from the confinement of the 
workroom to join her mother at the street corner and walk 
home, the more sadly from having to disguise her real feel¬ 
ings and feign to participate in all the sanguine visions of 
her companion. 

“Bless my soul, Kate,” said Mrs. Nickleby; “I’ve been 
thinking all day what a delightful thing it would be for 



Ill 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Madame Mantalini to take you into partnership — such a 
likely thing, too, you know! Why, your poor dear papa’s 
cousin’s sister-in-law —a Miss Browndock — was taken into 
partnership by a lady that kept a school at Hammersmith and 
made her fortune in no time at all. I forget, by the by, 
whether that Miss Browndock was the same lady that got 
the ten thousand pounds prize in the lottery, but I think she 
was; indeed, now I come to think of it, I am sure she was. 
‘ Mantalini and Nickleby,’ how well it would sound! — and if 
Nicholas had any good fortune, you might have Doctor 
Nickleby, the headmaster of Westminster School, living in 
the same street.” 

“Dear Nicholas! ” cried Kate, taking from her handbag 
her brother’s letter from Dotheboys Hall. “ In all our mis¬ 
fortunes, how happy it makes me, mama, to hear he is doing 
well, and to find him writ^ig in such good spirits! It con¬ 
soles me for all we may undergo, to think that he is comfort¬ 
able and happy.” 


CHAPTER X 


T HE cold, feeble dawn of a January morning was steal-' 
ing in at the windows of the common sleeping room, 
when Nicholas, raising himself on his arm, looked among the 
prostrate forms which on every side surrounded him, as 
though in search of some particular object. 

It needed a quick eye to detect, from among the huddled 
mass of sleepers, the form of any given individual. As they 
lay closely packed together, covered, for warmth s sake, with 
their patched and ragged clothes, little could be distinguished 
but the sharp outlines of pale faces. 

Nicholas looked upon the sleepers with the air of one who 
missed something his eye was accustomed to meet and had 
expected to rest upon. He was still occupied in this search 
and had half risen from his bed in the eagerness of his quest, 
when the voice of Squeers was heard, calling from the bottom 
of the stairs. 

“ Now, then,” cried that gentleman, “are you going to 

sleep all day, up there-” 

“You lazy hounds! ” added Mrs. Squeers, finishing the 
sentence and producing, at the same time, a sharp sound, 
like that which is occasioned by the lacing of corsets. 

“ We shall be down directly, sir,” replied Nicholas. 

“Down directly! ” said Squeers. “Ah! you had better 
be down directly, or I’ll be down upon some of you in less. 
Where’s that Smike ? ” 

Nicholas looked hurriedly round again, but made no 
answer. 

“Smike! ” shouted Squeers. 

112 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


113 


“ Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike? ” 
demanded his amiable lady in the same key. 

Still there was no reply, and still Nicholas stared about 
him, as did the greater part of the boys, who were by this 
time roused. 

“ Confound his impudence! ” muttered Squeers, rapping 
the stair rail impatiently with his cane. “ Nickleby! ” 

“ Well, sir.” 

“ Send that obstinate scoundrel down; don’t you hear me 
calling ? ” 

“ He is not here, sir,” replied Nicholas. 

“ Don’t tell me a lie,” retorted the schoolmaster. “ He is.” 

“ He is not,” retorted Nicholas angrily; “ don’t tell me one.” 

“ We shall soon see that,” said Mr. Squeers, rushing up¬ 
stairs. “ I’ll find him, I warrant you.” 

With this assurance, Mr. Squeers bounced into the dormi¬ 
tory and, swinging his cane in the air ready for a blow, 
darted into the corner where the lean body of the drudge was 
usually stretched at night. The cane descended harmlessly 
upon the ground. There was nobody there. 

“ What does this mean ? ” said Squeers, turning round with 
a very pale face. “ Where have you hid him? ” 

“ I have seen nothing of him since last night,” replied 
Nicholas. 

“ Come,” said Squeers, evidently frightened, though he 
endeavoured to look otherwise, “ you won’t save him this 
way. Where is he ? ” 

“ At the bottom of the nearest pond, for aught I know,” 
rejoined Nicholas in a low voice, and fixing his eyes full on 
the master’s face. 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” retorted Squeers in great 
perturbation. Without waiting for a reply, he inquired of 
the boys whether any one among them knew anything of 
their missing schoolmate. 


114 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


There was a general hum of anxious denial, in the midst of 
which, one shrill voice was heard to say (as, indeed, every¬ 
body thought): 

“ Please, sir, I think Smike’s run away, sir.” 

“ Ha! ” cried Squeers, turning sharp round; “ who said 
that?” 

“ Tompkins, please, sir,” rejoined a chorus of voices. Mr. 
Squeers made a plunge into the crowd and at one dive caught 
a very little boy, habited still in his night gear, and the per¬ 
plexed expression of whose countenance, as he was brought 
forward, seemed to intimate that he was uncertain whether he 
was about to be punished or rewarded for the suggestion. 
He was not long in doubt. 

“You think he has run away, do you, sir?” demanded 
Squeers. 

“ Yes, please, sir,” replied the little boy. 

“ And what, sir,” said Squeers, catching the little boy 
suddenly by the arms and whiskiilg up his drapery in a most 
dexterous manner, “ what reason have you to suppose that 
any boy .would want to run away from this establishment? 
Eh, sir?” 

The child raised a dismal cry by way of answer, and Mr. 
Squeers, throwing himself into the most favourable attitude 
for exercising his strength, beat him until the little urchin 
in his writhings actually rolled out of his hands, when he 
mercifully allowed him to roll away as he best could. 

“ There,” said Squeers, “ now if any other boy thinks Smike 
has run away, I should be glad to have a talk with him.” 

There was, of course, a profound silence, during which 
Nicholas showed his disgust as plainly as looks can show it. 

“ Well, Nickleby,” said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously. 
“ You think he has run away, I suppose? ” 

“ I think it extremely likely,” replied Nicholas, in a quiet 
manner. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 115 

“ Oh, you do, do you ? ” sneered Squeers. “ Maybe you 
know he has.” 

“ I know nothing of the kind.” 

“ He didn't tell you he was going, I suppose, did he?” 
sneered Squeers. 

“ He did n °L I am very glad he did not, for it would then 
have been my duty to have warned you in time.” 

“ Which no doubt you would have been devilish sorry to 
do,” said Squeers in a taunting fashion. 

“ I should indeed. You interpret my feelings with great 
accuracy.” 

Mrs. Squeers had listened to this conversation, from the 
bottom of the stairs; but now, losing all patience, she hastily 
assumed her night jacket, and made her way to the scene of 
action. 

“ What’s all this here to-do ? ” said the lady, as the boys 
fell off right and left, to save her the trouble of clearing a 
passage with her brawny arms. “ What on earth are you 
talking to him for, Squeery ? ” 

“ Why, my dear,” said Squeers, “the fact is, that Smike 
is not to be found.” 

“ Well, I know that,” said the lady, “ and where’s the won¬ 
der? If you get a parcel of proud-stomached teachers that 
set the young dogs a’re-belling, what else can you look for? 
Now, young man, you just have the kindness to take your¬ 
self off to the schoolroom, and take the boys off with you, 
and don’t you stir out of there till you have leave given 
you, or you and I may fall out in a way that’ll spoil your 
beauty, handsome as you think yourself, and so I tell 
you.” 

“ Indeed! ” said Nicholas. 

“Yes; and indeed and indeed again, Mister Jackanapes,” 
said the excited lady; “ and I wouldn’t keep such as you in the 
house another hour if I had my way.” 


116 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Nor would you if I had mine,” replied Nicholas. “ Now, 
boys! ” 

“ Ah! Now boys,” said Mrs. Squeers, mimicking, as nearly 
as she could, the voice and manner of the usher. “ Follow 
your leader, boys, and take pattern by Smike if you dare. 
See what he’ll get for himself, when he is brought back; and, 
mind! I tell you that you shall have as bad, and twice as 
bad, if you so much as open your mouths about him.” 

“ If I catch him,” said Squeers, “ I’ll only stop short of 
flaying him alive. I give you notice, boys.” 

“ If you catch him,” retorted Mrs. Squeers, contemptu¬ 
ously— “ you are sure to; you can’t help it, if you go the 
right way to work. Come! Away with you! ” 

With these words Mrs. Squeers dismissed the boys, and 
after a little light skirmishing with those in the rear, who 
were pressing forward to get out of the way, but were de¬ 
tained for a few moments by the throng in front, succeeded 
in clearing the room, when she confronted her spouse alone. 

“ He is off,” said Mrs. Squeers. “ The cow house and 
stable are locked up, so he can’t be there; and he’s not down¬ 
stairs anywhere, for the girl has looked there, tie must 
have gone York way, and by a public road, too.” 

“ Why must he? ” inquired Squeers. 

“ Stupid! ” said Mrs. Squeers angrily. “He hadn’t any 
money, had he ? ” 

“ Never had a penny of his own in his whole life that I 
know of.” 

“ To be sure,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers, “ and he didn’t take 
anything to eat with him; that I’ll answer for. Ha! ha! 
ha! ” 

“Ha! ha! ha! ” laughed Squeers. 

“ Then, of course,” said Mrs. Squeers, “ he must beg his 
way, and he could do that nowhere but on the public road.” 

“ That’s true,” exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


117 


“True! Yes; but you would never have thought of it, 
for all that, if I hadn’t said so,” replied his wife. “ Now if 
you take the chaise and go one road, and I borrow Swallow’s 
chaise and go the other, what with keeping our eyes open 
and asking questions one or other of us is pretty certain to 
lay hold of him.” 

The worthy lady’s plan was adopted and put in execution 
without a moment’s delay. After a very hasty breakfast 
and the prosecution of some inquiries in the village, the result 
of which seemed to show that he was on the right track, 
Squeers started forth in the pony chaise, intent upon discovery 
and vengeance. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed 
in the white topcoat and tied up in various shawls and hand¬ 
kerchiefs, issued forth in another chaise and another direc¬ 
tion, taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, several odd 
pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouring man — all pro¬ 
vided and carried upon the expedition with the sole object 
of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the 
safe custody of the unfortunate Smike. 

Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible 
that whatever might be the upshot of the boy’s flight, nothing 
but painful and deplorable consequences were likely to ensue 
from it. Death from want and exposure to the weather was 
the best that could be expected from the protracted wander- 
irig of so poor and helpless a creature, alone and unfriended, 
through a country of which he was wholly ignorant. There 
was little, perhaps, to choose between this fate and a return 
to the tender mercies of the Yorkshire school; but the un¬ 
happy being had established a hold upon his sympathy and 
compassion which made his heart ache at the prospect of 
the suffering he was destined to undergo. He lingered on 
in restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities, until 
the evening of the next day, when Squeers returned, alone, 
and unsuccessful. 


118 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“No news of the scamp! ” said the schoolmaster, who had 
evidently been “ stretching his legs ” a great many times 
during the journey. “ I’ll have consolation for this out of 
somebody, Nickleby, if Mrs. Squeers don’t hunt him down; 
so I give you warning.” 

“ It is not in my power to console you, sir,” said Nicholas. 
“ It is nothing to me.” 

“ Isn’t it? ” said Squeers in a threatening manner. “ We 
shall see! ” 

“ We shall,” rejoined Nicholas. 

“ Here’s the pony run right off his legs, and me obliged to 
come home with a hack cob that’ll cost fifteen shillings beside 
other expenses,” said Squeers; “ who’s to pay for that, do you 
hear ? ” 

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. 

“ I’ll have it out of somebody, I tell you,” said Squeers, his 
usual harsh crafty manner changed to open bullying. “ None 
of your whining vapourings here, Mr. Puppy, but be off to 
your kennel, for it’s past your bed time! Come! Get out! ” 

Nicholas bit his lip and knit his hands involuntarily, for 
his finger ends tingled to avenge the insult; but remembering 
that the man was drunk and that it could come to little but 
a noisy brawl, he contented himself with darting a contemptu¬ 
ous look at the tyrant, and walked, as majestically as he 
could, upstairs: not a little nettled, however, to observe that 
Miss Squeers and Master Squeers, and the servant girl were 
enjoying the scene from a snug corner; the two former, in¬ 
dulging in many edifying remarks about the presumption 
of poor upstarts, which occasioned a vast deal of laughter, 
in which even the miserable servant girl joined. 

Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when 
he heard the wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It 
stopped. The voice of Mrs. Squeers was heard, and in 
exultation ordering a glass of spirits for somebody, which 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


119 


was in itself a sufficient sign that something extraordinary 
had happened. Nicholas hardly dared to look out of the 
window; but he did so, and the very first object that met his 
eyes was the wretched Smike: so bedabbled with mud and 
rain, so haggard and worn and wild, that, but for his garments 
being such as no scarecrow was ever seen to wear, he might 
have been doubtful, even then, of his identity. 

“ Lift him out,” said Squeers, after he had literally feasted 
his eyes, in silence, upon the culprit. “ Bring him in; bring 
him in! ” 

“ Take care,” cried Mrs. Squeers, as her husband proffered 
his assistance. “We tied his legs and made ’em fast to the 
chaise, to prevent his giving us the slip again.” 

With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened 
the cord; and Smike, to all appearance more dead than alive, 
was brought into the house and securely locked up in a 
cellar until such time as Mr. Squeers should deem it expedient 
to operate upon him in presence of the assembled school. 

The news that Smike had been caught and brought back 
in triumph, ran like wildfire through the hungry community, 
and expectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe it 
was destined to remain, however, until afternoon; when 
Squeers, having refreshed himself with his dinner, and 
further strengthened himself by an extra libation or so, 
made his appearance (accompanied by his amiable partner) 
with a countenance of portentous import and a fearful 
whip, strong, supple, wax-ended, and new — in short, pur¬ 
chased that morning expressly for the occasion. 

“ Is every boy here ? ” asked Squeers, in a tremendous voice. 

Every boy was there, but every boy was afraid to speak; 
so Squeers glared along the lines to assure himself; and every 
eye dropped, and every head cowered down as he did so. 

“ Each boy keep his place,” said Squeers, administering his 
favourite blow to the desk and regarding with gloomy satis- 


120 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


faction the universal start which it never failed to occasion. 
“ Nickleby! to your desk, sir.” 

It was noticed by more than one small observer that there 
was a very curious and unusual expression in the usher’s face, 
but he took his seat without opening his lips in reply. 
Squeers, casting a triumphant glance at his assistant and a 
look of most comprehensive despotism on the boys, left the 
room, and shortly afterwards returned, dragging Smike by 
the collar — or rather by that fragment of his jacket which 
was nearest the place where his collar would have been, had 
he boasted such a decoration. 

In any other place the appearance of the wretched, jaded, 
spiritless object would have occasioned a murmur of com¬ 
passion and remonstrance. It had some effect, even there; 
for the lookers-on moved uneasily in their seats; and a few 
of the boldest ventured to steal looks at each other, expressive 
of indignation and pity. 

They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was 
fastened on the luckless Smike, as he inquired, according to 
custom in such cases, whether he had anything to say for 
himself. 

“ Nothing, I suppose?” said Squeers, with a diabolical 
grin. 

Smike glanced round, and his eye rested, for an instant, on 
Nicholas, as if he had expected him to intercede; but his 
look was riveted on his desk. 

“ Have you anything to say ? ” demanded Squeers again, 
giving his right arm two or three flourishes to try its power and 
suppleness. “ Stand a little out of the way, Mrs. Squeers, 
my dear; I’ve hardly got room enough.” 

“ Spare me, sir! ” cried Smike. 

“ Oh! that’s all, is it? ” said Squeers. “ Yes, I’ll flog you 
within an inch of your life, and spare you that.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Mrs. Squeers, “ that’s a good ’un! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


121 


“ I was driven to do it,” said Smike faintly, and casting 
another imploring look about him. 

“ Driven to do it, were you?” said Squeers. “Oh! it 
wasn’t your fault; it was mine, I suppose — eh ? ” 

“ A nasty, ungrateful, pig-headed, brutish, obstinate, sneak¬ 
ing dog,” exclaimed Mrs. Squeers, taking Smike’s head under 
her arm, and administering a cuff at every epithet, “ what 
does he mean by that ? ” 

“ Stand aside, my dear,” replied Squeers. “ We’ll try 
and find out.” 

Mrs. Squeers, being out of breath with her exertions, com¬ 
plied. Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip. One des¬ 
perate cut had fallen on his body. He w r as wincing from 
the lash and uttering a scream of pain. The lash was raised 
again, and again about to fall — when Nicholas Nickleby, 
suddenly starting up, cried “ Stop! ” in a voice that make the 
rafters ring. 

“ Who cried stop ? ” said Squeers, turning savagely round. 

“ I,” said Nicholas, stepping forward. “ This must not 
go on.” 

“ Must not go on! ” cried Squeers, almost in a shriek. 

“No! ” thundered Nicholas. 

Aghast and stupefied by the boldness of the interference, 
Squeers released his hold of Smike, and falling back a pace 
or two, gazed upon Nicholas with looks that were positively 
frightful. 

“I say must not,” repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted; 
“ shall not. I will prevent it.” 

Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting 
out of his head; but astonishment had actually, for the 
moment, bereft him of speech. 

“ You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the 
miserable lad’s behalf,” said Nicholas, “ you have returned no 
answer to the letter in which I begged forgiveness for him, and 


122 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


offered to be responsible that he would remain quietly here. 
Don’t blame me for this public interference. You have 
brought it upon yourself; not I.” 

“Sit down, beggar!” screamed Squeers, almost beside 
himself with rage, and seizing Smike as he spoke. 

“ Wretch,” rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, “ touch him at your 
peril! I will not stand by and see it done. My blood is up, 
and I have the strength of ten such men as you. Look to 
yourself, for by heaven, I will not spare you, if you drive 
me on! ” 

“ Stand back,” cried Squeers, brandishing his whip. 

“ I have a long series of insults to avenge,” said Nicholas, 
flushed with passion; “ and my indignation is aggravated by 
the cruelties on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a 
care; for if you do raise the devil within me, the consequences 
shall fall heavily upon your own head! ” 

He had scarcely spoken when Squeers, in a violent outbreak 
of wrath and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat 
upon him and struck him a blow across the face with his 
whip, which raised up a bar of livid flesh. 

Smarting with the agony of the blow and concentrating 
into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and in¬ 
dignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, snatched the whip from 
his hand, and pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian 
till he roared for mercy. 

The boys —with the-exception of Master Squeers, who, 
coming to his father’s assistance, harassed the enemy in the 
rear —moved not, hand or foot; but Mrs. Squeers, with 
many shrieks for aid, hung on to the tail of her partner’s 
coat and endeavoured to drag him from his infuriated ad¬ 
versary, while Miss Squeers, who had been looking through 
the keyhole in expectation of a very different scene, darted 
in at the very beginning of the attack and, after throwing 
a lot of inkstands at the teacher’s head, beat Nicholas to 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


123 


her heart’s content, animating herself at every blow with 
the recollection of his having refused her proffered love, and 
thus imparting additional strength to an arm which (as she 
took after her mother in this respect) was, at no time, one 
of the weakest. 

Nicholas felt the blows no more than if they had been 
dealt with feathers, he was so angry; but becoming tired of 
the noise and uproar, and feeling that his arm grew weak 
besides, he threw all his remaining strength into half a dozen 
finishing cuts, and flung Squeers from him, with all the 
force he could muster. The violence of his fall knocked Mrs. 
Squeers over a bench; and Squeers, striking his head against 
it in his descent, lay at his full length on the ground, stunned 
and motionless. 

Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and 
ascertained, to his thorough satisfaction, that Squeers was 
only stunned, and not dead, Nicholas left his family to restore 
him, and went out to consider what course he had better 
adopt. He looked anxiously round for Smike as he left the 
room, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

He packed up a few clothes in a small leathern valise, 
marched boldly out by the front door, and struck into the 
road which led to Greta Bridge. 

His circumstances did not appear in a very encouraging 
light. He had only four shillings and a few odd pence in 
his pocket, and was more than two hundred and fifty miles 
from London. 

Lifting up his eyes, as he arrived at the conclusion that 
there was no remedy for this unfortunate state of things, 
he beheld a horseman coming towards him, whom, on nearer 
approach, he discovered, to his infinite chagrin, to be no 
other than Mr. John Browdie, who was urging his animal 
forward by means of a thick ash stick, which seemed to 
have been recently cut from some stout sapling. 


124 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I am in no mood for more noise and riot,” thought Nicho¬ 
las, “ and yet, do what I will, I shall have a quarrel with this 
honest blockhead and perhaps a blow or two from yonder 
staff.” 

In truth there appeared some reason that such a result 
would follow from the encounter, for John Browdie no sooner 
saw Nicholas advancing than he reined in his horse by the 
footpath and waited until such time as he should come up, 
looking meanwhile very sternly between the horse’s ears at 
Nicholas, as he came on at his leisure. 

“ Servant, young genelman,” said John. 

“ Yours,” said Nicholas. 

“Weel; we ha’ met at last,” observed John, making the 
stirrup ring under a smart touch of the ash stick. 

“Yes,” replied Nicholas, hesitating. “Come!” he said 
frankly, after a moment’s pause, “ we parted on no very good 
terms the last time we met; it was my fault, I believe; but 
I had no intention of offending you and no idea that I was 
doing so. I was very sorry for it afterwards. Will you shake 
hands ?” 

“ Shake hands! ” cried the good-humoured Yorkshireman; 
“ ah! that I weel”; at the same time he bent down from the 
saddle and gave Nicholas’s fist a huge wrench; “ but wa’at 
be the matther wi’ thy feace, mun? it be all broken loike.” 

“It is a cut,” said-Nicholas, “ — a blow; but I returned 
it to the giver and with good interest, too.” 

“ Noa, did’ee though? Welldeane! I loike un’for thot.” 

“The fact is,” said Nicholas, not very well knowing how 
to make the avowal, “ the fact is, that I have been ill-treated.” 

“ Noa! ” interposed John Browdie, in a tone of compassion; 
for he was a giant in strength and stature, and Nicholas, very 
likely, in his eyes, seemed a mere dwarf; “ dean’t say thot.” 

“ Yes, I have, by that man Squeers, and I have beaten him 
soundly, and am leaving this place in consequence.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


125 


“ What! ” cried John Browdie, with such an ecstatic shout 
that the horse quite shied at it. “ Beatten the^school- 
measther! Ho! ho! ho! Beatten the schoolmeasther! 
Whoever heard the like of that now! Give us thee hand 
again, youngster. Beatten the schoolmeasther! Dang it, 
I loove thee for’t.” 

With these expressions of delight, John Browdie laughed 
and laughed again — so loud that the echoes far and wide 
sent back nothing but jovial peals of merriment — and shook 
Nicholas by the hand meanwhile, no less heartily. When his 
mirth had subsided, he inquired what Nicholas meant to do; 
on his informing him, to go straight to London, he shook his 
head doubtfully, and inquired if he knew how much the 
coaches charged, to carry passengers so far. 

“No, I do not,” said Nicholas; “but it is of no great 
consequence to me, for I intend walking.” 

“ Gang aw^a’ to Lunnun afoot! ” cried John in amazement. 

“ Every step of the way,” replied Nicholas. “ I should 
be many steps further on by this time, and so good-by! ” 

“ Nay, noo,” replied the honest countryman, reining in his 
impatient horse, “ stan’ still, tellee. Hoo much cash hast 
thee gotten? ” 

“ Not much, but I can make it enough. Where there’s a 
will there’s a way, you know.” 

John Browdie made no verbal answer to this remark, but 
putting his hand in his pocket pulled out an old purse of 
soiled leather and insisted that Nicholas should borrow from 
him whatever he required for his present necessities. 

“ Dean’t be afeared, mun,” he said, “ tak’ eneaf to carry 
thee whoam. Thee’lt pay me yan day, a’ warrant.” 

Nicholas could not be induced to borrow more than a 
sovereign, with which loan Mr. Browdie had to content him¬ 
self. 

“ Take that bit o’ timber to help thee on wi’, mun,” he 


126 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


added, pressing his stick on Nicholas, and giving his hand 
another squeeze; “ keep a good heart and bless thee. Beat- 
ten the schoolmeasther! ’Cod, it’s the best thing a’ve heerd 
this twonty year! ” 

So saying, and indulging in another series of loud laughs 
for the purpose of avoiding the thanks which Nicholas poured 
forth, John Browdie set spurs to his horse and went off at a 
smart canter, looking back from time to time, as Nicholas 
stood gazing after him and waving his hand cheerily, as if 
to encourage him on his way. Nicholas watched the horse 
and rider until they disappeared over a distant hill and then 
set forward on his journey. 

He did not travel far that afternoon, for by this time it was 
nearly dark, and there had been a heavy fall of snow which 
not only made the way toilsome, but the track uncertain and 
difficult to find after dark. He stayed that night at a cottage 
where beds were let at a cheap rate and, getting up early the 
next morning, made his way before night to the next town. 
Passing through in search 4 of some cheap resting place, he 
found an empty barn near the roadside in a warm corner of 
which he stretched his weary limbs and soon fell asleep. 

When he awoke next morning and tried to recollect his 
dreams, which had been all connected with his recent sojourn 
at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared 
at some motionless object which seemed to be stationed a 
few yards in front of him. 

“ Strange! ” cried Nicholas; “ can this be some lingering 
creation of the visions that have scarcely left me! It cannot 
be real — and yet I — I am awake! Smike! ” 

The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its 
knees at his feet. It was Smike indeed. 

“ Why do you kneel to me ? ” said Nicholas, hastily raising 
him. 

“ To go with you — anywhere — everywhere — to the 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


127 


world’s end — to the churchyard grave,” replied Smike, 
clinging to his hand. “ Let me, oh do let me. You are my 
home — my kind friend — take me with you, pray.” 

“ I am a friend who can do little for you,” said Nicholas, 
kindly. “ How came you here ? ” 

He had followed him, it seemed; had never lost sight of 
him all the way, had watched while he slept, and when he 
halted for refreshment; and had feared to appear before, lest 
he should be sent back. He had not intended to appear now, 
but Nicholas had awakened more suddenly than he looked 
for, and he had not had time to conceal himself. 

“ Poor fellow! ” said Nicholas, “ your hard fate denies you 
any friend but one, and he is nearly as poor and helpless as 
yourself.” 

“ May I — may I go with you ? ” asked Smike timidly. “ I 
will be your faithful hard-working servant, I will, indeed. 
I want no clothes,” added the poor creature, drawing his rags 
together; “ these will do very well. I only want to be near 
you.” 

“ And you shall,” cried Nicholas. “ And the world shall 
deal by you as it does by me, till one or both of us shall quit 
it for a better. Come! ” 

With these words, he strapped his burden on his shoulders 
and, taking his stick in one hand, extended the other to his 
delighted charge; and so they passed out of the old barn, 
together. 


CHAPTER XI 


A HARD-FEATURED, square-faced man, elderly and 
shabby, stopped to unlock the door of the front attic, 
into which he walked with the air of legal owner. 

This person wore a wig of short, coarse red hair, which he 
took off with his hat and hung upon a nail. Having adopted 
in its place a dirty cotton nightcap and groped about in the 
dark till he found a remnant of candle, he knocked at the 
partition which divided the two garrets and inquired, in a 
loud voice, whether Mr. Noggs had a light. 

The sounds that came back were stifled by the lath and 
plaster, but they were in the voice of Newman, and conveyed 
a reply in the affirmative. 

“A nasty night, Mr. Noggs! ” said the man stepping in 
to light his candle. 

“ Does it rain ? ” 

“ Does it! I am wet through.” 

“ It doesn’t take much to wet you and me through, Mr. 
Crowl,” said Newman, laying his hand upon the lapel of 
his threadbare coat. 

“ Well, and that makes it the more vexatious,” said Mr. 
Crowl. 

Uttering a low querulous growl, the speaker raked the 
scanty fire nearly out of the grate and inquired where he 
kept his coals. 

Newman Noggs pointed to the bottom of a cupboard, and 
Mr. Crowl, seizing the shovel, threw on half the stock, which 
Noggs very deliberately took off again withbut saying a 
word. 


128 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 129 

“ You have not turned saving at this time of day, I hope? ” 
said Crowl. 

Newman briefly said that he was going downstairs to 
supper. 

“ Think of that now! ” said Crowl. “ If I didn’t — think¬ 
ing that you were certain not to go, because you said you 
wouldn’t — make up my mind to spend the evening with 
you! ” 

“ I was obliged to go. They would have me.” 

“ Well, but what’s to become of me? It’s all your fault. 
I’ll tell you what — I’ll sit by your fire till you come back 
again.” 

Newman cast g, despairing glance at his small store of 
fuel, but, not having the courage to say no — a word which 
in all his life he never had said at the right time, either to 
himself or any one else — gave way to the proposed ar¬ 
rangement, and Mr. Crowl immediately went about making 
himself comfortable with Newman Noggs’s means. 

The dinner downstairs was a great success, and Newman 
had a pleasant time. They were just about to drink some 
hot punch, late in the evening, when a hasty knock was heard 
at the room door. 

“ Don’t be alarmed; it’s only me,” cried Crowl, looking in,, 
in his nightcap — “ it’s Mr. Noggs that’s wanted.” 

“Me!” cried Newman, much astonished. 

“Why, it is a queer hour, isn’t it?” replied Crowl, who 
was not best pleased at the prospect of losing his fire; “ and 
they are queer-looking people, too, all covered with rain and 
mud. Shall I tell them to go away? ” 

“ No,” said Newman, rising. “ People? How many? ” 

“ Two.” 

“ Want me ? By name ? ” 

“ By name, Mr. Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.” 

Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried 


130 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


away, muttering that he would be back directly. He was 
as good as his word; for in an exceedingly short time he 
burst into the room and seizing, without a word of apology 
or explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch 
from the table, darted away like a madman. 

“ What the deuce is the matter with him ? ” exclaimed 
Crowl, throwing the door open. “Hark! Is there any noise 
above ? ” 

Not hearing any unusual sounds, he went to his own room 
and retired for the night. 

Newman Noggs scrambled in violent haste upstairs with 
the steaming beverage, which he had so unceremoniously 
snatched from the table. He bore his prize straight to his 
own back garret, where, footsore and nearly shoeless, wet, 
dirty, jaded, and disfigured with every mark of fatiguing 
travel, sat Nicholas and Smike, at once the cause and partner 
of his toil, both perfectly worn out by their unwonted and 
protracted exertion. 

Newman’s first act was to compel Nicholas, with gentle 
force, to swallow half of the punch at a breath, nearly boiling 
as it was; and his next, to pour the remainder down the throat 
of Smike, who, never having tasted anything stronger than 
medicine in his whole life,-exhibited various manifestations 
of surprise and delight. 

“ You are wet through,” said Newman, passing his hand 
hastily over the coat which Nicholas had thrown off; “ and 
I — I — haven’t even a change,” he added, with a wistful 
glance at the shabby clothes he wore himself. 

“ I have dry clothes, or at least such as will serve my turn 
well, in my bundle,” replied Nicholas. “ If you look so 
distressed to see me, you will add to the pain I feel already, 
at being compelled, for one night, to cast myself upon your 
slender means for aid and shelter.” 

Mr. Noggs brightened up again, and went about making 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 131 

such arrangements as were in his power for the comfort of 
his visitors. 

These were simple enough; but slight as they were, they 
were not made without much bustling and running about. 
As Nicholas had husbanded his scanty stock of money so 
well that it was not quite expended, a supper of bread and 
cheese, with some cold beef from the cook’s shop, was soon 
placed upon the table; and these viands being flanked by a 
pot of porter, there was no ground for apprehension on the 
score of hunger or thirst. Such preparations as Newman 
had in his power to make for the accommodation of his guests 
during the night occupied no very great time in completing ; 
and as he had insisted that Nicholas should change his clothes 
and that Smike should invest himself in his solitary coat 
(which no entreaties could dissuade him from stripping off 
for the purpose), the travellers partook of their frugal fare 
with more satisfaction than one of them at least had derived 
from many a better meal. 

They then drew near the fire, which Newman Noggs had 
made up as well as he could, after the inroads of Crowl upon 
the fuel; and Nicholas now pressed him with earnest questions 
concerning his mother and sister. 

“ Well; both well.” 

“ They are living -in the city still? ” 

“ They are.” 

“ And my sister. Is she still engaged in the business which 
she wrote to tell me she thought she should like so much? ” 

Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but 
merely replied by a gasp, which was interpreted as meaning 
yes or no. The pantomime consisted of a nod also; so 
Nicholas took the answer as a favourable one. 

“ Now listen to me,” said Nicholas, laying his hand on 
Newman’s shoulder. ,f Before I would make an effort to 
see them, I deemed it expedient to come to you, lest, by 


132 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

gratifying my own selfish desire, I should inflict an injury 
upon them which I can never repair. What has my uncle 
heard from Yorkshire? ” 

Newman opened and shut his mouth several times, as 
though he were trying to speak, but could make nothing of 
it, and finally fixed his eyes on Nicholas with a grim and 
ghastly stare. 

“ What has he heard? ” urged Nicholas, colouring. “ You 
see that I am prepared to hear the very worst that malice 
can have suggested. Why should you conceal it from me? 
I must know it sooner or later; and what purpose can be 
gained by trifling with the matter for a few minutes, when 
half the time would put me in possession of all that has oc¬ 
curred? Tell me at once.” 

“ Tomorrow morning; hear it tomorrow.” 

“ What purpose would that answer ? ” 

“ You would sleep the better.” 

“ I should sleep the worse. Sleep! I cannot hope to 
close my eyes all night, unless you tell me everything.” 

“ And if I should tell you everything,” said Newman, hesi¬ 
tating. 

“ Why, then you may rouse my indignation or wound my 
pride, but you will not break my rest; for if the scene were 
acted over again, I could take no other part than I have 
taken. I shall never regret doing as I have done — never, 
if I starve or beg in consequence. What is a little poverty 
or suffering to the disgrace of the basest and most inhuman 
cowardice! I tell you, if I had stood by tamely and passively, 
I should have hated myself and merited the contempt of 
every man in existence. The black-hearted scoundrel! ” 

With this allusion to the absent Mr. Squeers, Nicholas re¬ 
pressed his wrath and, relating to Newman what had passed 
at Dotheboys Hall, entreated him to speak out without more 
pressing. Thus adjured, Mr. Noggs took from an old trunk 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


133 


a sheet of paper which appeared to have been scrawled over 
in great haste. 

“ The day before yesterday your uncle received this letter. 
I took a hasty copy of it, while he was out.” 

Newman Noggs accordingly read as follows: 

Dotheboys Hall 

Thursday Morning. 
Sir, 

My pa requests me to write to you, the doctors consider¬ 
ing it doubtful whether he will ever recuvver the use of his 
legs which prevents his holding a pen. 

We are in a state of mind beyond everything, and my pa 
is one mask of brooses both blue and green; likewise two 
benches are steepled in his Goar. We were kimpelled to 
have him carried down into the kitchen where he now lays. 
You will judge from this that he has been brought very low. 

When your nevew that you recommended for a teacher 
had done this to my pa, and jumped upon his body with 
his feet, and also langwedge which I will not pollewt my 
pen with describing, he assaulted my ma with dreadful vio¬ 
lence, dashed her to the earth, and drove her back comb 
several inches into her head. A very little more and it 
must have entered her skull. I We have a medical certifi- 
ket that if it had, the tortershell would have affected her 
brain. 

Me and my brother were then the victims of his ieury 
since which we have suffered very much which leads us to 
the arrowing belief that we have received some injury in 
our insides, especially as no marks of violence are visible ex¬ 
ternally. I am screaming out loud all the time I write and 
so is my brother, which takes off my attention rather and 
I hope will excuse mistakes. 

The monster having sasiated his thirst for blood ran away, 
taking with him a boy of desperate caracter that he had ex¬ 
cited to rebellyon, and a garnet ring belonging to my ma, 
and not having been apprehended by the constables is sup¬ 
posed to have been took up by some stage-coach. My pa 
begs that if he comes to you the ring may be returned, and 
that you will let the thief and assassin go, as if we prosecuted 
him he would not be transported, and if he is let go he is 


134 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

sure to be hung before long which will save us trouble and 

be much more satisfactory. Hoping to hear from you 

when convenient 

I remain 

Yours and cetrer 

Fanny Squeers. 

P. S. I pity his ignorance and despise him. 

A profound silence succeeded to the reading of this choice 
epistle, during which Newman Noggs, as he folded it up, gazed 
with a kind of grotesque pity at the boy of desperate character 
therein referred to; who, having no more distinct perception 
of the matter in hand than that he had been the unfortunate 
cause of heaping trouble and falsehood upon Nicholas, sat 
mute and dispirited, with a most woebegone and heart- 
stricken look. 

“ Mr. Noggs,” said Nicholas, after a few moments’ reflec¬ 
tion, “ I must go out at once.” 

“ Go out! ” 

“ Yes, to Golden Square. Nobody who knows me would 
believe this story of the ring; but it may suit the purpose, or 
gratify the hatred, of Mr. Ralph Nickleby to attach credence 
to it. It is due — not to-him, but to myself — that I should 
state the truth; and moreover, I have a word or two to ex¬ 
change with him which will not keep cool.” 

“ They must,” said Newman. 

“ They must not, indeed,” rejoined Nicholas firmly, as he 
prepared to leave the house. 

“ Hear me speak,” said Newman, planting himself before 
his impetuous young friend. “ He is not there. He is away 
from town. He will not be back for three days, and I know 
that letter will not be answered before he returns.” 

“ Are you sure of this? ” asked Nicholas, pacing the narrow 
room with rapid strides. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 135 

“ Quite. He had hardly read it when he was called away. 
Its contents are known to nobody but himself and us.” 

“ Are you certain? Not even to my mother or sister? If 
I thought that they — I will go there —I must see them. 
Which is the way ? Where is it ? ” 

“ Now be advised by me; make no effort to see even them 
till he comes home. I know the man. When he returns go 
straight to him and speak as boldly as you like. He knows the 
real truth as well as you or I. Trust him for that.” 

“ You mean well to me and should know him better than 
I can,” replied Nicholas, after some consideration. “ Well, 
let it be so.” 

Newman, who had stood with his back planted against the 
door, ready to oppose any egress frorp the apartment, by 
force if necessary, resumed his seat with much satisfaction; 
and as the water in the kettle was by this time boiling, made 
a glassful of spirits and water for Nicholas and a cracked 
mugfull for the accommodation of himself and Smike, of 
which the two partook in great harmony, while Nicholas, 
leaning his head upon his hand, remained in melancholy 
meditation. 

The first care of Nicholas next morning was to look for 
some room without trenching upon the hospitality of New¬ 
man Noggs, who would have slept upon the stairs with pleas¬ 
ure, so that his young friend was accommodated. There was 
a small back room vacant on the second floor which Nicholas 
rented, and hired a few common articles of furniture from a 
neighbouring broker. The more he thought about his 
troubles the worse they seemed, so he resolved to banish them 
from his mind by dint of hard walking. Taking up his hat 
and leaving Smike to arrange and rearrange the room with 
as much delight as if it had been the costliest palace, he went 
out dn the streets and mingled with the crowd which thronged 
them. But the unhappy state of his own affairs was the one 


136 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


idea which occupied the brain of Nicholas, walk as fast as 
he would; and when he tried to dislodge it by speculating on 
the prospects of the people who surrounded him, he caught 
himself, in a few seconds, contrasting their condition with his 
own, and gliding almost imperceptibly back into his old train 
of thought again. 

Occupied in these reflections, as he was making his way 
along one of the great public thoroughfares of London, he 
chanced to raise his eyes to a blue board, whereon was in¬ 
scribed in characters of gold : 

GENERAL AGENCY OFFICE 
FOR PLACES AND SITUATIONS OF ALL KINDS 
INQUIRE WITHIN 

In the window hung a long, tempting array of written 
placards announcing vacant places of all grades. Nicholas 
halted before this temple of promise and ran his eye over the 
openings in life which were so profusely displayed. Then he 
went inside. He was not able to get a position from this 
place, but he had, what ‘was to him, an experience of a life¬ 
time. Just as it was his turn to go up to the desk, there came 
into the office an applicant in whose favour he immediately 
retired and whose appearance both surprised and interested 
him. This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen, 
of very slight and delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped, 
who, walking timidly up to the desk, made an inquiry in a 
very low voice about a situation as governess or companion. 
She raised her veil for an instant and disclosed a countenance 
of most uncommon beauty, though shaded by a cloud of 
sadness. She made the usual acknowledgment and glided 
away. If her clothing had been worn by one who imparted 
fewer graces of her own, it might have looked poor and 
shabby, but she simply looked quietly dressed. Her attend- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


137 


ant was a red-faced, round-eyed, slovenly girl, who, from a 
certain roughness about the bare arms under her shawl, was 
clearly a servant. This girl followed her mistress, and before 
Nicholas had recovered from the first effects of his surprise 
and admiration, the young lady was gone. It is not a matter 
of such improbability as some sober people may think, that 
he would have followed them out, had he not been restrained 
by what passed between the fat woman, who managed the 
place, and her bookkeeper. 

“ When is she coming again, Tom? ” asked the fat woman. 

“ Tomorrow - morning,” replied Tom, mending his pen. 
Then he said to Nicholas, in a very coarse disagreeable 
manner; 

“ I say, what a good-looking gal that was, wasn’t she ? ” 

“ What girl ? ” demanded Nicholas, sternly. 

“ Oh yes. I know what gal, eh? ” whispered Tom, shutting 
one eye, and cocking his chin in the air. “ You didn’t see 
her, you didn’t — I say, don’t you wish you was me, when 
she comes tomorrow morning ? ” 

Nicholas looked at the ugly clerk as if he had a mind to 
reward his admiration of the young lady by beating the 
ledger about his ears, but he refrained, and strode haughtily 
out of the office, thinking no longer of his own misfortunes, 
but wondering what could be those of the beautiful girl he 
had seen. He made up his mind that he would be on hand 
at the employment office in the morning when she arrived 
and that he would try to find out who she was. Never before 
had any girl impressed him as being so sweet and lovely, yet 
oppressed with sorrow and trouble. 

Smike had scraped a meal together from the remains of 
last night’s supper and was anxiously awaiting his return. 
The occurrences of the morning had not improved Nicholas s 
appetite, and by him the dinner remained untasted. He 
was sitting in a thoughtful attitude with the plate which 


138 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


poor Smike had filled with the choicest morsels untouched, 
when Newman Noggs looked into the room. 

“ Come back? ” asked Newman. 

“ Yes, tired to death, and what is worse, might have re¬ 
mained at home, for all the good I have done, as far as find¬ 
ing work goes.” 

“ Couldn’t expect to do much in one morning.” 

“ May be so, but I did expect, and am disappointed,” 
saying which, he gave Newman an account of his proceedings. 

“ If I could do anything,” said Nicholas, “ anything how¬ 
ever slight, until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased 
my mind by confronting him, I should feel happier. I should 
think it no disgrace to work at anything. Lying indolently 
here, like a half-tamed sullen beast, distracts me.” 

He visited the employment office the next day but could 
not find any work. Neither did he see anything more of 
the beautiful girl who had so impressed him the day before. 
In spite of all his troubles, her image remained in his mind. 


CHAPTER XII 


W ELL, now, indeed Madame Mantalini,” said Miss 
Knag, as Kate was taking her weary way homewards 
on the first night, “ That Miss Nickleby is a very creditable 
young person — a very creditable young person indeed — 
hem — upon my word, Madame Mantalini, it does very ex¬ 
traordinary credit even to your discrimination, that you 
should have found such a very excellent, very well behaved, 
very — hem — very unassuming young woman to assist in 
the fitting on. I have seen some young women when they had 
the opportunity of displaying before their betters behave in 
such a — oh, dear — well — but you’re always right, Madame 
Mantalini, always; and as I very often tell the young ladies, 
how you do contrive to be always right when so many people 
are so often wrong is to me a mystery indeed.” 

“ Beyond putting a very excellent client out of humour, 
Miss Nickleby has not done anything very remarkable today 
— that I am aware of, at least,” said Madame Mantalini, in 
reply. 

“ Oh, dear! but you must allow a great deal for inexperi¬ 
ence, you know.” 

“ And youth ? ” 

“ Oh, I say nothing about that, Madame Mantalini, be¬ 
cause if youth were any excuse, you wouldn’t have-” 

“ Quite so good a forewoman as I have, I suppose.” 

“ Well, I never did know anybody like you, Madame Man¬ 
talini, and that’s a fact, for you know what one’s going to 
say, before it has time to rise to one’s lips. Oh, very good! 
Ha, ha, ha! ” 


139 


140 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ For myself,” observed Madame Mantalini, glancing with 
affected carelessness at her assistant and laughing heartily in 
her sleeve, “ I consider Miss Nickleby the most awkward girl 
I ever saw in my life.” 

“ Poor dear thing, it’s not her fault. If it was, we might 
hope to cure it; but as it’s her misfortune, Madame Mantalini, 
why really, you know, as the man said about the blind horse, 
we ought to respect it.” 

“ Her uncle told me she had been considered pretty,” re¬ 
marked Madame Mantalini. “ I think her one of the most 
ordinary girls I ever met with.” 

“Ordinary! ” cried Miss Knag with a countenance beam¬ 
ing delight; “ and awkward! Well, all I can say is, Madame 
Mantalini, that I quite love the poor girl; and that if she 
was twice as indifferent-looking and twice as awkward as 
she is, I should be only so much the more her friend, and 
that’s the truth of it.” 

In fact, Miss Knag had conceived an incipient affection 
for Kate Nickleby, after witnessing her failure that morning, 
and this short conversation with her superior increased the 
favourable prepossession to a most surprising extent. 

At this high point, Miss Knag’s friendship remained for 
three whole days, much to the wonderment of Madame Man- 
talini’s young ladies, who had never beheld such constancy 
in that quarter before; but on the fourth it received a check 
no less violent than sudden, which thus occurred. 

It happened that an old lord of great family, who was going 
to marry a young lady of no family in particular, came with 
the young lady’s sister, to witness the ceremony of trying on 
two nuptial bonnets which had been ordered the day before. 
Madame Mantalini announced the fact in a shrill treble 
through the speaking pipe, which communicated with the 
work room. Miss Knag darted hastily upstairs, with a bon¬ 
net in each hand, and presented herself in the show room. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


141 


The bonnets were no sooner fairly on the young lady than 
Miss Knag and Madame Mantalini fell into convulsions of 
admiration. 

“ A most elegant appearance,” said Madame Mantalini. 

“ I never saw anything so exquisite in all my life,” said 
Miss Knag. 

Now the old lord, who was a very old lord, said nothing, 
but mumbled and chuckled in a state of great delight, no 
less with the nuptial bonnets and their wearers than with his 
own address in getting such a fine woman for his wife; and 
the young lady, who was a very lively young lady, seeing 
the old lord in this rapturous condition, chased the old lord 
behind a cheval glass and then and there kissed him, while 
Madame Mantalini and the other young lady looked discreetly 
another way. 

But Miss Knag, who was tinged with curiosity, stepped 
accidentally behind the glass and encountered the lively 
young lady’s eye just at the very moment when she kissed the 
old lord; upon which the young lady, in a pouting manner, 
murmured “ an old thing,” and “ great impertinence,” and 
finished by darting a look of displeasure at Miss Knag and 
smiling contemptuously. 

“ Madame Mantalini,” said the young lady. 

“ Ma’am,” said Madame Mantalini. 

“ Pray have up that pretty young creature we saw yester¬ 
day.” 

“ Oh yes, do,” said the sister. 

“ Of all things in the world, Madame Mantalini,” said the 
lord’s intended, throwing herself languidly on a sofa, “ I hate 
being waited upon by frights or elderly persons. Let me 
' always see that young creature, I beg, whenever I come.” 

“ By all means,” said the old lord; “the lovely young 
creature, by all means.” 

“Everybody is talking about her,” said the young lady, 


142 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


in the same careless manner; “ and my lord, being a great 
admirer of beauty, must positively see her.” 

“ She is universally admired,” replied Madame. Mantalini. 
“Miss Knag, send up Miss Nickleby. You needn’t re¬ 
turn.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Madame Mantalini, what did you 
say last ? ” asked Miss Knag, trembling. 

“ You needn’t return,” repeated the superior, sharply. Miss 
Knag vanished without another word, and in all reasonable 
time was replaced by Kate, who took off the new bonnets 
and put on the old ones, blushing very much to find that the 
old lord and the two young ladies were staring her out of 
countenance all the time. 

“ Why, how you colour, child! ” said the lord’s chosen bride. 

“ She is not quite so accustomed to her business as she will 
be in a week or two,” interposed Madame Mantalini with a 
gracious smile. 

“I am afraid you have been giving her some of your 
wicked looks, my lord,” said the intended. 

“ No, no, no,” replied the old lord, “ no, no, I’m going to 
be married and lead a new life. Ha, ha, ha! a new life, a new 
life! ha, ha, ha! ” 

It was a satisfactory thing to hear that the old gentleman 
was going to lead a new T life, for it was pretty evident that 
his old one would not last him much longer. The mere 
exertion of protracted chuckling reduced him to a fearful 
ebb of coughing and gasping; it was some minutes before he 
could find breath to remark that the girl was too pretty for a 
milliner. 

“ I hope you don’t think good looks a disqualification 
for the business, my lord,” said Madame Mantalini, sim¬ 
pering. 

“ Not by any means,” replied the old lord, “ or you would 
have left it long ago.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


143 


“ You naughty creature,” said the lively lady, poking the 
peer with her parasol; “ I won’t have you talk so. How dare 
you ? ” 

This playful inquiry was accompanied with another poke, 
and another, and then the old lord caught the parasol, and 
wouldn’t give it up again, which induced the other lady to 
come to the rescue, and some very pretty sportiveness en¬ 
sued. 

“ You will see that those little alterations are made, 
Madame Mantalini,” said the lady. “ No, you bad man, you 
positively shall go first; I wouldn’t leave you behind with 
that pretty girl, not for half a second. I know you too well. 
Jane, my dear, let him go first, and we shall be quite sure of 
him.” 

The old lord, evidently much flattered by this suspicion, 
bestowed a grotesque leer upon Kate as ]je passed and, 
receiving another tap with the parasol for his wickedness, 
tottered downstairs to the door, where his sprightly body 
was hoisted into the carriage by two stout footmen. 

“ Foh! ” said Madame Mantalini, “ how he ever gets into 
a carriage without thinking of a hearse, I can’t think. There, 
take the things away, my dear; take them away.” 

Kate, who had remained during the whole scene with her 
eyes modestly fixed upon the ground, was only too happy to 
avail herself of the permission to retire and hasten joyfully 
downstairs to Miss Knag’s dominion. 

The circumstances of the little kingdom had greatly 
changed, however, during the short period of her absence. 
In place of Miss Knag being stationed in her accustomed seat, 
preserving all the dignity and greatness of Madame Man- 
talini’s representative, she was reposing on a large box, bathed 
in tears, while three or four of the young ladies in close at¬ 
tendance upon her, together with the presence of hartshorn, 
vinegar, and other restoratives, would have borne ample 


144 ‘ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

testimony, even without the derangement of the headdress 
and front row of curls, to her having fainted desperately. 

“ Bless me!/” said Kate, stepping hastily forward, “ What 
is the matter ? ” 

This inquiry produced in Miss Knag violent symptoms 
of a relapse and several young ladies, darting angry looks 
at Kate, applied more vinegar and hartshorn, and said it 
was “ a shame.” 

“ What is a shame?” demanded Kate. “What is the 
matter? What has happened? Tell me.” 

“ Matter! ” cried Miss Knag, coming all at once bolt up¬ 
right, to the great consternation of the assembled maidens. 
“ Matter! Fie upon you, you nasty creature! 

“ Gracious! ” cried Kate, almost paralysed by the violence 
with which the adjective had been jerked out from between 
Miss Knag’s clo.sed teeth; “ have I offended you? ” 

“ You offended me! ” retorted Miss Knag, “You! a chit, 
a child, an upstart, nobody! Oh, indeed! Ha, ha! ” 

Now it was evident, as Miss Knag laughed, that something 
struck her as being exceedingly funny; and as the young ladies 
took their tone from Miss Knag — she being the chief, — they 
all got up a laugh without a moment’s delay and nodded their 
heads a little, and smiled sarcastically to each other, as much 
as to say how very good that was! 

“ Here she is,” continued Miss Knag, getting off the box and 
introducing Kate with much ceremony and many low curtseys 
to the delighted throng; “ here she is — everybody is talking 
about her — the belle, ladies — the beauty, the — oh, you 
bold-faced thing! ” 

At this crisis, Miss Knag was unable to repress a virtuous 
shudder, which immediately communicated itself to all the 
young ladies, after which Miss Knag laughed, and after that, 
cried. 

“ For fifteen years,” exclaimed Miss Knag, sobbing in a 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


145 


most affecting manner, “ for fifteen years have I been the 
credit and ornament of this room and the one upstairs. 
Thank God,” said Miss Knag, stamping first her right foot 
and then her left with remarkable energy, “ I have never in 
all that time, till now, been exposed to the arts, the vile arts, 
of a creature who disgraces us with all her proceedings and 
makes proper people blush for themselves. But I feel it, 
I do feel it, although I am disgusted.” 

Miss Knag here relapsed into softness, and the young ladies, 
renewing their attentions, murmured that she ought to be 
superior to such things and that for their part they despised 
them and considered them beneath their notice; in witness 
whereof, they called out more emphatically than before that 
it was a shame and that they felt so angry they hardly knew 
what to do with themselves. 

“ Have I lived to this day to be called a fright! ” cried 
Miss Knag, suddenly becoming convulsive. 

“ Oh no, no,” replied the chorus, “pray don’t say so; 
don’t now! ” 

“Have I deserved to be called an elderly person?” 
screamed Miss Knag. 

“ Don’t think of such things, dear,” answered the chorus. 

“ I hate her,” cried Miss Knag; “ I detest and hate her. 
Never let her speak to me again; never let anybody who is 
a friend of mine speak to her; a hussy, an impudent, artful 
hussy! ” Having denounced the object of her wrath in 
these terms, Miss Knag screamed once, hiccuped thrice, 
gurgled in her throat several times, slumbered, shivered, 
woke, came to, composed her headdress, and declared herself 
quite well again. 

Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings at first in per¬ 
fect bewilderment. She had then turned red and pale by 
turns, and once or twice tried to speak; but as the true 
motives of this altered behaviour developed themselves, she 


146 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


retired a few paces and looked calmly on without deigning 
a reply. Nevertheless, although she walked proudly to her 
seat and turned her back upon the group of little satellites 
who had clustered round their ruling planet in the remotest 
corner of the room, she gave way, in secret, to some such 
bitter tears as would have gladdened Miss Knag’s inmost 
soul if she could have seen them fall. The rest of the week 
was so miserable for Kate that she hailed the arrival of 
Saturday night as a prisoner would a few delicious hours of 
intermission from slow and wearing torture. 

When she joined her mother at the street corner as usual, 
she was surprised to find her in conversation with Ralph 
Nickleby, who said: 

“ Ah, my dear, we were at that moment talking about you.” 

“ Indeed,” replied Kate, listlessly. 

“ I was coming to call for you, but your mother and I have 
been talking over family affairs, and the time has slipped 
away rapidly.” 

“ Well, now, hasn’t it? ” interposed Mrs. Nickleby. “ Upon 
my word I couldn’t have believed it possible that —Kate, 
my dear, you’re to dine with your uncle at half-past six 
tomorrow. Your black silk will be quite dress enough, my 
dear, with that pretty little scarf and a plain band in your 
hair,— dear, dear, if I only had those amethysts of mine — 
you recollect them, Kate, my love — how they used to 
sparkle, you know, but your papa, your poor dear papa —ah! 
there never was anything so cruelly sacrificed as those jewels 
were, never! ” Overpowered by this agonizing thought, Mrs. 
Nickleby shook her head, in a melancholy manner, and applied 
her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“ I don’t want them, mama, indeed,” said Kate. “ Forget 
that you ever had them.” 

“ Now,” said Ralph, with a smile “ to return to the point 
from which we have strayed. I have a little party of — of — 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


147 


gentlemen with whom I am connected in business just now/at 
my house tomorrow, and your mother has promised that you 
shall keep house for me. I am not much used to parties; 
but this is one of business, and such fooleries are an important 
part of it sometimes. You don’t mind obliging me? ” 

“ Mind! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ My dear Kate, why — ” 

“ Pray,” interrupted Ralph, motioning her to be silent. “ I 
spoke to my niece.” 

“ I shall be very glad, of course, uncle, but I am afraid 
you will find me awkward and embarrassed.” 

“ Oh no. Come when you like, in a hackney coach — I’ll 
pay for it. Good night — a — a — God bless you.” 

The blessing seemed to stick in Mr. Ralph Nickleby’s 
throat, as if it were not used to the thoroughfare, and didn’t 
know the way out. But it got out somehow, though awk¬ 
wardly enough; and having disposed of it, he shook hands with 
his two relatives and abruptly left them. 

“ What a very strongly marked countenance your uncle 
has! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, quite struck with his parting look. 
“ I don’t see the slightest resemblance to his poor brother.” 

“ Mama! ” said Kate reprovingly. “ To think of such a 
thing! ” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Nickleby, musing. “ There certainly is 
none. But it’s a very honest face.” 

The worthy matron made this remark with great emphasis 
as if it comprised no small quantity of ingenuity and research. 
Kate looked up hastily, and as hastily looked down again. 

“ What has come over you, my dear, in the name of good¬ 
ness? ” asked Mrs. Nickleby, when they had walked on, for 
some time, in silence. 

“ I was only thinking, mama.” 

“ Thinking! Yes, and indeed, plenty to think about, too. 
Your uncle has taken a strong fancy to you — that’s quite 
clear.” 


148 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

The next day, in good time, or in bad time, as the reader 
likes to take it — (for Mrs. Nickleby’s impatience went a good 
deal faster than the clocks at the end of the town, and Kate 
was dressed to the very last hairpin a full hour and a half 
before it was at all necessary to begin to think about it) 
with many adieux to her mother and many kind messages to 
Miss La Creevy, who was to come to tea, Kate Nickleby 
went away in state, if ever anybody went away in state in 
a hackney coach yet. And the coach, and the coachman, and 
the horses, rattled, and jangled, and whipped, and cursed, 
and swore, and tumbled on together, until they came to 
Golden Square. 

The coachman gave a tremendous double knock at the 
door, which was opened long before he had done, as quickly 
as if there had been a man behind it with his hand tied to the 
latch. Kate, who had expected no more uncommon ap¬ 
pearance than Newman Noggs in a clean shirt, was not a 
little astonished to see that the opener was a man in hand¬ 
some livery and that there were two or three others in the 
hall. She was ushered upstairs into a back drawing-room, 
where she was left alone. 

If she had been surprised at the apparition of the foot¬ 
man, she was perfectly absorbed in amazement at the' richness 
and splendour of the furniture. The softest and most elegant 
carpets, the most exquisite pictures, the costliest mirrors, 
articles of richest ornament, encountered her on every side. 
The very staircase, nearly down to the hall door, was crammed 
with beautiful and luxurious things, as though the house were 
brimfull of riches, which, with a very trifling addition, would 
fairly run over into the street. 

At length, the door opened, and Ralph himself, divested 
of his boots, and ceremoniously embellished with black silks 
and shoes, presented his crafty face. 

“ I couldn’t see you before, my dear,” he said, in a low 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


149 


tone, and pointing, as he spoke, to the next room. “ I was 
engaged in receiving them. Now — shall I take you in?” 

“ Pray, uncle,” said Kate, a little flurried, as people much 
more conversant with society often are, when they are about 
to enter a roomfull of strangers and have had time to think 
of it previously, “ are there any ladies here?” 

“ No, I don’t know any.” 

“ Must I go in immediately? ” 

“ As you please. They are all come, and dinner will be 
announced directly afterwards — that’s all.” 

Kate would have entreated a few minutes’ respite, but 
reflecting that her uncle might consider the payment of the 
hackney coach fare a sort of bargain for her punctuality, 
she suffered him to draw her arm through his, and to lead 
her away. 

Seven or eight gentlemen were standing round the fire 
when they went in and, as they were talking very loud, were 
not aware of their entrance until Mr. Ralph Nickleby, 
touching one on the coat sleeve, said in a harsh emphatic 
voice, as if to attract general attention- 

“ Lord Frederick Verisopht, my niece, Miss Nickleby.” 

The group dispersed, as if in great surprise, and the gentle¬ 
man addressed, turning round, exhibited a suit of clothes 
of the most superlative cut, a pair of whiskers of similar 
quality, a moustache, a head of hair, and a young face. 

“Eh! ” said the gentleman. “ What — the — deyvle! ” 

With which broken ejaculation, he fixed his glass in his 
eye, and stared at Miss Nickleby in great surprise. 

“ My niece, my lord.” 

“ Then my ears did not deceive me, and it’s not wa-a-x 
work; How dee do? I’m very happy.” And then his 
lordship turned to another superlative gentleman, something 
older, something stouter, something redder in the face, and 
said in a loud whisper that the girl was “ deyvlish pitty. 


150 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Introduce me, Nickleby,” said this second gentleman, 
who was lounging with his back to the fire and both elbows 
on the chimney piece. 

“ Sir Mulberry Hawk,” said Ralph. 

“ Otherwise the most knowing card in the pa-ack, Miss 
Nickleby,” said Lord Frederick Verisopht. 

“ Don’t leave me out, Nickleby,” cried a sharp-faced 
gentleman, who was sitting on a low chair with a high back, 
reading the paper. 

“ Mr. Pyke,” said Ralph. 

“ Nor me, Nickleby,” cried a gentleman with a flushed face 
and a flashy air, from the elbow of Sir Mulberry Hawk. 

“Mr. Pluck,” said Ralph. Then wheeling about again, 
towards a gentleman with the neck of a stork and the legs 
of no animal in particular, Ralph introduced him as the 
Honourable Mr. Snobb; and a white-headed person at the 
table as Colonel Chowser. The colonel was in conversation 
with somebody, who appeared to be a make-weight, and 
was not introduced at all. 

There were two circumstances which, in this early stage 
of the party, struck home to Kate’s bosom and brought the 
blood tingling to her face. One was the flippant contempt 
with which the guests evidently regarded her uncle, and the 
other, the easy insolence of their manner towards herself. 

When Ralph had completed the ceremony of introduction, 
he led his blushing niece to a seat. As he did so, he glanced 
warily round as though to assure himself of the impression 
which her unlooked-for appearance had created. 

“An unexpected playsure, Nickleby,” said Lord Frederick 
Verisopht, taking his glass out of his right eye, where it had, 
until now, done duty on Kate and fixing it in his left, to 
bring it to bear on Ralph. 

“ Designed to surprise you, Lord Frederick,” said Mr. 
Pluck. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


151 


“ Not a bad idea,” said his lordship, “ and one that would 
almost warrant the addition of an extra two and a half per 
cent.” 

“ Nickleby,” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, in a thick coarse 
voice, “ take the hint, and tack it on to the other five-and- 
twenty, or whatever it is, and give me half for the advice.” 

Sir Mulberry garnished this speech with a hoarse laugh, 
whereat Messrs. Pvke and Pluck laughed together. 

These gentlemen had not yet quite recovered from the jest 
when dinner was announced, and then they were thrown 
into fresh ecstasies by a similar cause; for Sir Mulberry 
Hawk, in an excess of humour, shot dexterously past Lord 
Frederick Yerisopht, who was about to lead Kate downstairs, 
and drew her arm throtigh his up to the elbow. 

“ No, damn it, Yerisopht, fair play’s a jewel, and Miss 
Nickleby and I settled the matter with our eyes ten minutes 
ago.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” laughed the Honourable Mr. Snobb, “ very 
good, very good.” 

Rendered additionally witty by this applause, Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk leered upon his friends most facetiously and led 
Kate downstairs with an air of familiarity which roused in 
her gentle breast such burning, indignation as she felt it 
almost impossible to repress. Nor was the intensity of these 
feelings at all diminished when she found herself placed at 
the top of the table, with Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord 
Frederick Yerisopht on either side. 

“ Oh, you’ve found your way into our neighbourhood, 
have you? ” said Sir Mulberry as his lordship sat down. 

“ Of course,” replied Lord Frederick, fixing his eyes on 
Miss Nickleby, “ how can you a-ask me? ” 

“Well, you attend to your dinner, and don’t mind Miss 
Nickleby and me, for we shall prove very indifferent com¬ 
pany, I dare say.” 


152 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I wish you’d interfere here, Nickleby,” said Lord Fred¬ 
erick. 

“What is the matter, my lord?” demanded Ralph from 
the bottom of the table, where he was supported by Messrs. 
Pyke and Pluck. 

“ This fellow, Hawk, is monopolising your niece.” 

“ He has a tolerable share of everything that you lay claim 
to, my lord,” said Ralph with a sneer. 

“ Gad, so he has, deyvle take me if I know which is master 
in my own house, he or I.” 

“ I know,” muttered Ralph. 

“ I think I shall cut him off with a shilling,” said the young 
nobleman, jocosely. 

“ No, no, curse it,” said Sir Mulberry. “ When you come 
to the shilling — that last shilling — I’ll cut you fast enough; 
but till then, I’ll never leave you — you may take your oath 
of it.” 

This sally was received with a general roar, above which 
was plainly distinguishable the laughter of Mr. Pyke and 
Mr. Pluck, who were evidently Sir Mulberry’s toads in 
ordinary. Indeed, it was not difficult to see that the majority 
of the company preyed upon the unfortunate young lord, 
who, weak and silly as he was, appeared by far the least 
vicious of the party. Sir Mulberry Hawk was remarkable 
for his tack in ruining, by himself and his creatures, young 
gentlemen of fortune — a genteel and elegant profession, of 
which he had undoubtedly gained the head. 

The dinner was elegant and the company were remarkable 
for doing it ample justice, in which respect Messrs. Pyke and 
Pluck particularly signalised themselves; these two gentle¬ 
men eating of every dish and drinking of every bottle with 
a capacity and perseverance truly astonishing. They were 
remarkably fresh, too, notwithstanding their great exer¬ 
tions; for on the appearance of the dessert, they broke out 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 153 

again, as if nothing serious had taken place since break¬ 
fast. 

“ Well,” said Lord Frederick, sipping his first glass of port, 
“ if this is a discounting dinner, all I have to say is, deyvle 
take me, if it wouldn’t be a good pla-an to get discount every 
day.” 

“ You’ll have plenty of it, in your time,” returned Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk; “ Nickleby will tell you that!” 

“ What do you say, Nickleby? ” inquired the young man. 
“ Am I to be a good customer? ” 

“It depends entirely on circumstances,,my lord,” replied 
Ralph. 

“ On your lordship’s circumstances,” interposed Colonel 
Chowser of the Militia — and the race-courses. 

The gallant colonel glanced at Messrs. Pyke and Pluck as 
if he thought they ought to laugh at his joke; but those 
gentlemen, being only engaged to laugh for Sir Mulberry 
Hawk, were as grave as a pair of undertakers. 

All this while, Kate had sat as silently as she could, scarcely 
daring to raise her eyes, lest they should encounter the admir¬ 
ing gaze of Lord Frederick Yerisopht or, what was still more 
embarrassing, the bold looks of his friend, Sir Mulberry. 
The latter gentleman was obliging enough to direct general 
attention towards her, saying, “ Here is Miss Nickleby, 
wondering why the deuce somebody doesn’t make love 
to her.” 

“ No, indeed,” said Kate, hastily looking up, “ I-” and 

then she stopped, feeling it would have been better to have 
said nothing at all. 

“ I’ll hold any man fifty pounds,” said Sir Mulberry, “ that 
Miss Nickleby can’t look in my face and tell me she wasn’t 
thinking so.” 

“Done! ” cried the noble gull. “Within ten minutes.” 

f 'Pone| ” repeated Sir Mulberry, The money was pro- 


154 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


duced on both sides, and the Honourable Mr. Snobb was 
elected to the double office of stakeholder and timekeeper. 

“ Pray/’ said Kate, in great confusion, while these pre¬ 
liminaries were in course of completion. “ Please do not 
make me the subject of any bets. Uncle, I cannot really-” 

“Why not, my dear?” replied Ralph, in whose grating 
voice, however, there was an unusual huskiness, as though 
he spoke unwillingly and would rather that the proposition 
had not been broached. “It is done in a moment; there 
is nothing in it. If the gentlemen insist on it-” 

“/ don’t insist on it,” said Mulberry, with a loud laugh. 
“ That is, I by no means insist upon Miss Nickleby’s making 
the denial, for if she does, I lose; but I shall be glad to see 
her bright eyes, especially as she favours the mahogany so 
much.” 

“ So she does, and it’s too ba-a-d of you, Miss Nickleby,” 
said the noble youth. 

“ Quite cruel,” said Mr. Pyke. 

“ Horrid cruel,” said Mr. Pluck. 

“I don’t care if I do lose,” said Sir Mulberry; “for one 
tolerable look at Miss Nickleby’s eyes is worth double the 
money.” 

“ More,” said Mr. Pyke. 

“ Far more,” said Mr. Pluck. 

“ How goes the enemy, Snobb? ” asked Sir Mulberry Hawk. 

“ Four minutes gone.” 

“ Bravo! ” 

“ Won’t you ma-ake one effort for me, Miss Nickleby? ” 
asked Lord Frederick, after a short interval. 

“ You needn’t trouble yourself to inquire, my buck,” said 
Sir Mulberry; “ Miss Nickleby and I understand each other; 
she declares on my side and shows her taste. You haven’t 
a chance, old fellow. Time, Snobb? ” 

" Eight minutes gone.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 155 

“ Get the money ready,” said Sir Mulberry; “ you’ll soon 
hand over.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” laughed Mr. Pyke. 

Mr. Pluck, who always came second and topped his 
companion if he could, screamed outright. 

The poor girl, who was so overwhelmed with confusion 
that she scarcely knew what she did, had determined to 
remain perfectly quiet but, fearing that by so doing she might 
seem to countenance Sir Mulberry’s boast, which had been 
uttered with great coarseness and vulgarity of manner, 
raised her eyes and looked him in the face. There was some¬ 
thing so odious, so insolent, so repulsive in the look which 
met her that, without the power to stammer forth a syllable, 
she rose and hurried from the room. She restrained her 
tears by a great effort until she was alone upstairs, and then 
gave them vent. 

“ Capital! ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, putting the stakes 
in his pocket. “ That’s a girl of spirit, and we’ll drink her 
health.” 

It is needless to say, that Pyke and Co. responded, with 
great warmth of manner, to this proposal, or that the toast 
was drunk with many little insinuations from the firm, rela¬ 
tive to the completeness of Sir Mulberry’s conquest. 

Ralph, who, while the attention of the other guests was 
attracted to the principals in the preceding scene, had eyed 
them like a wolf, appeared to breathe more freely now his 
niece was gone; the decanters passed quickly round; he 
leaned back in his chair, and turned his eyes from speaker to 
speaker, as they warmed with wine, with looks that seemed 
to search their hearts and lay bare, for his distempered sport, 
every idle thought within them. 

Meanwhile Kate, left wholly to herself, had, in some degree, 
recovered her composure. She had learned from a female 
attendant that her uncle wished to see her before she left and 


156 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


had also gleaned the satisfactory intelligence that the gentle¬ 
men would take coffee at table. The prospect of seeing 
them no more contributed greatly to calm her agitation, and 
taking up a book, she composed herself to read. 

She started sometimes, when the sudden opening of the 
dining room door let loose a wild shout of noisy revelry, and 
more than once rose in great alarm, as a fancied footstep 
on the staircase impressed her with the fear that some stray 
member of the party was returning alone. Nothing oc¬ 
curring, however, to realise her apprehensions, she endeav¬ 
oured to fix her attention more closely on her book, in which 
by degrees she became so much interested that she had read 
on through several chapters without heed of time or place, 
when she was terrified by suddenly hearing her name pro¬ 
nounced by a man’s voice close at her ear. 

The book fell from her hand. Lounging on an ottoman 
close beside her was Sir Mulberry Hawk, evidently the worse 
for wine. 

“ What a delightful studiousness! Was it real, now, or 
only to display the eyelashes ? ” 

Kate, looking anxiously towards the door, made no reply. 

“ I have looked at ’em for five minutes; upon my soul, 
they’re perfect. Why did I speak and destroy such a pretty 
little picture! ” 

“ Do me the favour to be silent,” said Kate, indignantly. 

“ No, don’t,” said Sir Mulberry, folding his crushed hat 
to lay his elbow on, and bringing himself still closer to the 
young lady: “ upon my life, you oughtn’t to. Such a devoted 
slave of yours, Miss Nickleby — it’s an infernal thing to 
treat him so harshly, upon my soul it is.” 

“ I wish you to understand, sir, that your behaviour 
offends and disgusts me. If you have a spark of gentlemanly 
feeling remaining, you will leave me.” 

“ Now why will you keep up this appearance of excessive 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


157 


rigour, my sweet creature? Now be more natural — my 
dear Miss Nickleby, be more natural — do.” 

Kate hastily rose; but as she rose, Sir Mulberry caught her 
dress and forcibly detained her. 

“ Let me go, sir,” she cried, her heart swelling with anger. 
“ Do you hear? Instantly — this moment.” 

“ Not for the world; sit down, sit down, I want to talk to 
you.” Thus speaking, he leaned over, as if to replace her in 
her chair; but the young lady, making an effort to disengage 
herself, he lost his balance and measured his length upon the 
ground. As Kate sprang forward to leave the room, Mr. 
Ralph Nickleby appeared in the doorway and confronted 
her. 

“ What is this? ” said Ralph. 

“It is this, sir,” replied Kate, violently agitated; “that 
beneath the roof where I, a helpless girl, your dead brother’s 
child, should most have found protection, I have been ex¬ 
posed to insult which should make you shrink to look upon me. 
Let me pass you.” 

Ralph did shrink, as the indignant girl fixed her kindling 
eye upon him; but he did not comply with her injunction, 
nevertheless ;* for he led her to a distant seat, and, returning 
and approaching Sir Mulberry Hawk, who had by this time 
risen, motioned towards the door. 

“ Your way lies there, sir,” said Ralph, in a suppressed 
voice. 

“What do you mean by that?” demanded his frienci, 
fiercely. 

The swollen veins stood out like sinews on Ralph’s wrinkled 
forehead, and the nerves about his mouth worked as though 
some unendurable emotion wrung them; but he smiled dis¬ 
dainfully, and again pointed to the door. 

“ Do you know me, you old madman ? ” asked Sir Mul¬ 
berry. 


158 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Well,” said Ralph. The fashionable vagabond for the 
moment quailed under the steady look of the older sinner, 
and walked towards the door, muttering as he went. 

“ You wanted the lord, did you? ” he said, stopping short 
when he reached the door, as if a new light had broken in 
upon him, and confronting Ralph again. “ Damme, I was 
in the way, was I ? ” 

Ralph smiled again, but made no answer. 

“ Who brought him to you first? ” pursued Sir Mulberry; 
“ and how, without me, could you ever have wound him in 
your net as you have ? ” 

“ The net is a large one and rather full,” said Ralph. 
“ Take care that it chokes nobody in the meshes.” 

“ You would sell your flesh and blood for money; yourself, 
if you have not already made a bargain with the devil,” 
retorted the other. “ Do you mean to tell me that your 
pretty niece was not brought here as a decoy for the drunken 
boy downstairs ? ” 

Although this hurried dialogue was carried on, in a sup- 
pressed tone on both sides, Ralph looked involuntarily round 
to ascertain that Kate had not moved her position so as to 
be within hearing. His adversary saw the advantage he had 
gained and followed it up. 

“ Do you mean to tell me that it is not so ? Do you mean 
to say that, if he had found his way up here instead of me, 
you wouldn’t have been a little more blind, and a little more 
deaf, and a little less flourishing, than you have been? Come, 
Nickleby, answer me that.” 

“ I tell you this; that if I brought her here, as a matter 
of business-” 

“ Aye, that’s the word,” with a laugh. “ You’re coming 
to yourself again now.” 

“ — As a matter of business,” pursued Ralph, speaking 
slowly and firmly, as a man who has made up his mind to 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


159 


say no more, “ because I thought she might make some im¬ 
pression on the silly youth you have taken in hand and are 
lending good help to ruin, I knew — knowing him — that it 
would be long before he outraged her girl’s feelings, and that 
he would, with a little management, respect the sex and 
conduct even of his usurer’s niece. But if I thought to draw 
him on more gently by this device, I did not think of sub¬ 
jecting the girl to the licentiousness and brutality of so old 
a hand as you. And now we understand each other.” 

“ Especially as there was nothing to be got by it — eh? ” 
sneered Sir Mulberry. 

“ Exactly so,” said Ralph. He had turned away, and 
looked over his shoulder to make this last reply. The eyes 
of the two worthies met, with an expression as if each rascal 
felt that there was no disguising himself from the other; 
and Sir Mulberry Hawk shrugged his shoulders and walked 
slowly out. 

His friend closed the door and looked restlessly towards the 
spot where his niece still remained in the attitude in which 
he had left her. She had flung herself heavily upon the 
couch and, with her head drooping over the cushion and her 
face hidden in her hands, seemed to be still weeping in an 
agony of shame and grief. 

Ralph took a chair at some distance; then another a little 
nearer; then nearer again, and finally sat on the same sofa, 
and laid his hand on Kate’s arm. 

“ Hush, my dear! ” he said, as she drew it back, and her 
sobs burst out afresh. “ Hush, hush! Don’t mind it now; 
don’t think of it.” 

“ Oh, for pity’s sake, let me go home, let me leave this 
house and go home.” 

“ Yes, yes, you shall. But you must dry your eyes first 
and compose yourself. Let me raise your head. There — 
there.” 


160 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Oh, uncle! What have I done — what have I done — 
that you should subject me to this? If I had wronged you 
in thought, or word, or deed, it would have been most cruel 
to me and to the memory of one you must have loved in 
some old time; but-” 

“ Only listen to me for a moment,” interrupted Ralph, 
seriously alarmed by the violence of her emotions. “ I didn’t 
know it would be so; it was impossible for me to foresee it. 
I did all I could. — Come, let us w r alk about. You are faint 
with the closeness of the room and the heat of these lamps. 
You will be better now, if you make the slightest effort.” 

“ I will do anything if you will only send me home.” 

“ Well, well, I will, but you must get back your own looks; 
for those you have will frighten them, and nobody must 
know of this but you and I. Now let us walk the other way. 
There. You look better even now.” 

With such encouragements as these, Ralph Nickleby 
walked to and fro with his niece leaning on his arm, actually 
trembling beneath her touch. 

In the same manner, when he judged it prudent to allow 
her to depart, he supported her downstairs, after adjusting 
her shawl and performing such little offices, most probably 
for the first time in his life. Across the hall, and down the 
steps, Ralph led her too; nor did he withdraw his hand until 
she was seated in the coach. 

As the door of the vehicle was roughly closed, a comb fell 
from Kate’s hair, close at her uncle’s feet; and as he picked 
it up and returned it into her hand, the light from a neigh¬ 
bouring lamp shone upon her face. The lock of hair that 
had escaped and curled loosely over her brow, the traces 
of tears yet scarcely dry, the flushed cheek, the look of sor¬ 
row, all fired some dormant train of recollection in the old 
man’s breast; and the face of his dead brother seemed present 
.before him, with the very look it bore on some occasion of 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


161 


boyish grief of which every circumstance flashed upon his 
mind with the distinctness of a scene of yesterday. 

Ralph Nickleby, who was proof against all appeals of 
blood and kindred — who was steeled against every tale of 
sorrow and distress, — staggered while he looked, and went 
back into his house as a man who had seen a spirit from 
some world beyond the grave. 


CHAPTER XIII 


L ITTLE Miss La Creevy trotted briskly through divers 
streets at the west end of the town, early on Monday 
morning —the day after the dinner — charged with the 
important commission of acquainting Madame Mantalini 
that Miss Nickleby was too unwell to attend that day, but 
hoped to be enabled to resume her duties on the morrow. As 
Miss La Creevy walked along, she cogitated a good deal upon 
the probable causes of her young friend’s indisposition. 

“ I don’t know what to make of it, her eyes were decidedly 
red last night. She said she had a headache; headaches 
don’t occasion red eyes. She must have been crying. I 
can’t think of anything, unless it was the behaviour of that 
old bear. Cross to her, I suppose? Unpleasant brute! ” 
Relieved by this expression of opinion, although it was 
vented upon empty air, Miss La Creevy trotted on to Madame 
Mantalini’s; and being informed that the governing power 
was not yet out of bed, requested an interview with the 
second in command, whereupon Miss Knag appeared. 

“ So far as I am concerned,” said Miss Knag, when the 
message had been delivered, “ I could spare Miss Nickleby 
for evermore.” 

“ Oh, indeed, ma’am! But, you see, you are not mistress 
of the business, and therefore it’s of no great consequence,” 
said Miss La Creevy. 

“Very good, ma’am. Have you any further commands 
for me? ” 

“ No, I have not, ma’am,” said Miss La Creevy. 

“ Then good morning, ma’am.” 

162 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 163 

“ Good morning to you, ma’am, and many obligations for 
your extreme politeness and good breeding.” 

Thus terminating the interview during which both ladies 
had trembled very much and been marvellously polite — 
certain indications that they were within an inch of a very 
desperate quarrel — Miss La Creevy bounced out of the 
room, and into the street. 

“ I wonder who that is,” said the queer little soul. “ A 
nice person to know, I should think! I wish I had the paint¬ 
ing of her; I’d do her justice.” So, feeling quite satisfied 
that she had said a very cutting thing at Miss Knag’s ex¬ 
pense, Miss La Creevy had a hearty laugh and went home 
to breakfast in great good humour. 

Here was one of the advantages of having lived alone so 
long! The little bustling, active, cheerful creature existed 
entirely within herself, talked to herself, made a confidante of 
herself, was as sarcastic as she could be on people who offended 
her by herself, pleased herself, and did no harm. She went 
home to breakfast and had scarcely caught the full flavour of 
her first sip of tea, when the servant announced a gentleman. 
Miss La Creevy at once imagined a new sitter and was in 
unspeakable consternation at the presence of the tea things. 

“Here, take ’em away; run with ’em into the bedroom; 
anywhere,” said Miss La Creevy to her maid. “ Dear, dear! 
To think that I should be late on this particular morning of 
all others after being ready for three weeks by half-past 
eight o’clock, and not a soul coming near the place! ” 

“ Don’t let me put you out of the way,” said a voice Miss 
La Creevy knew. “ I told the servant not to mention my 
name, because I wished to surprise you.” 

“Mr. Nicholas! ” 

“ You have not forgotten me, I see,” replied Nicholas, 
extending his hand. 

“ Why, I think I should have known you even if I had met 


164 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


you in the street. Hannah, another cup and saucer. But 
now I look at you again, you seem thinner than when I saw 
you last, and your face is haggard and pale. And how come 
you to have left Yorkshire? ” 

She stopped here, for there was so much heart in her altered 
tone and manner that Nicholas was quite moved. 

“ I need look somewhat changed,” he said, after a short 
silence, “ for I have undergone some suffering, both of mind 
and body, since I left London. I have been very poor, too, 
and have even suffered from want.” 

“ Good heavens, Mr. Nicholas, what are you telling me! ” 
“ Nothing which need distress you quite so much,” answered 
Nicholas, with a more sprightly air; “ neither did I come here 
to bewail my lot, but on a matter more to the purpose. I 
wish to meet my uncle face to face. I should tell you that 
first.” 

“ Then all I have to say about that is that I don’t envy 
you your taste; and that sitting in the same room with his 
very boots would put me out of humour for a fortnight.” 

“ In the main, there may be no great difference of opinion 
between you and me, so far; but you will understand that I 
desire to confront him, to justify myself, and to cast his 
duplicity and malice in his throat.” 

“ That’s quite another matter,” rejoined Miss La Creevy. 
“ Heaven forgive me, but I shouldn’t cry my eyes quite out 
of my head if they choked him. Well? ” 

“ To this end, I called upon him this morning,” said Nicho¬ 
las. “ He only returned to town on Saturday, and I knew 
nothing of his arrival until late last night.” 

“ And did you see him ? ” 

“ No, he had gone out.” 

“ Hah! on some kind, charitable business, I dare say.” 

“ I have reason to believe, from what has been told me by 
a friend of mine who is acquainted with his movements, that 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


165 


he intends seeing my mother and sister today and giving 
them his version of the occurrences that have befallen me. 
I will meet him there.” 

“ That’s right; and yet, I don’t know; there is much to be 
thought of — others to be considered.” 

" I have considered others; but as honesty and honour are 
both at issue, nothing shall deter me.” 

" You should know best.” 

“ In this case I hope so, and all I want you to do for me 
is to prepare them for my coming. They think me a long 
way off; and if I went wholly unexpected, I should frighten 
them. If you can spare time to tell them that you have seen 
me and that I shall be with them in a quarter of an hour 
afterwards, you will do me a great service.” 

“ I wish I could do you, or any of you, a greater service, 
but the power to serve is as seldom joined with the will as the 
will is with the power, I think.” 

Talking on very fast and very much, Miss La Creevy 
finished her breakfast with great expedition, put away the 
tea caddy, and hid the key under the fender, resumed her 
bonnet, and, taking Nicholas’s arm, sallied forth at once to 
the city. Nicholas left her near the door of his mother’s 
house and promised to return within a quarter of an hour. 

When Miss La Creevy, admitted by a girl who was clean¬ 
ing the house, made her way to the sitting room, she found 
Mrs. Nickleby and Kate in tears, and Ralph just concluding 
his statement of his nephew’s misdemeanours. Kate beck¬ 
oned her not to retire, and Miss La Creevy took a seat in 
silence. 

“ You are here already, are you, my gentleman? ” thought 
the little woman. "Then he shall announce himself, and 
see what effect that has on you.” 

“ This is pretty,” said Ralph, folding up Miss Squeers’s 
note; "very pretty. I recommended him — against all my 


166 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


previous conviction, for I knew he would never do any good 
— to a man with whom, behaving himself properly, he 
might have remained, in comfort, for years. What is the 
result? Conduct for which he might be put in jail at the 
Old Bailey.” 

“ I never will believe it,” said Kate, indignantly. “ Never. 
It is some base conspiracy which carries its own falsehood 
with it.” 

“ My dear,” said Ralph, “ you wrong the worthy man. 
These are not inventions. The man is assaulted, your brother 
is not to be found; this boy, of whom they speak, goes with 
him — remember, remember.” 

“ It is impossible, Nicholas! — and a thief, too! Mama, 
how can you sit and hear such statements ? ” 

Poor Mrs. Nickleby, who had at no time been remarkable 
for the possession of a very clear understanding, and who had 
been reduced by the late changes in her affairs to a most 
complicated state of perplexity, made no other reply to this 
earnest remonstrance than exclaiming from behind a mass 
of pocket handkerchief that she never could have believed 
it — thereby most ingeniously leaving her hearers to suppose 
that she did believe it. 

“ It would be my duty, if he came in my way, to deliver 
him up to justice,” said Ralph, “ my bounden duty. I should 
have no other course, as a man of the world and a man of 
business. And yet,” said Ralph, speaking in a very marked 
manner and looking furtively, but fixedly, at Kate, “ and 
yet I would not. I would spare the feeling of his — of his 
sister. And his mother, of course,” added Ralph, as though 
by an afterthought, and with far less emphasis. 

Kate very well understood that this was held out as an 
additional inducement to her, to preserve the strictest silence 
regarding the events of the preceding night. She looked 
involuntarily towards Ralph as he ceased to speak, but he had 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


167 


turned his eyes another way and seemed for the moment 
quite unconscious of her presence. 

“ Everything,” said Ralph, after a long silence, broken 
only by Mrs. Nickleby’s sobs, “ everything combines to prove 
the truth of this letter, if indeed there were any possibility 
of disputing it. Do innocent men steal away from the sight 
of honest folks, and skulk in hiding places, like outlaws? 
Do innocent men inveigle nameless vagabonds and prowl with 
them about the country as idle robbers do? Assault, riot, 
theft, what do you call these ? ” 

“ A lie! ” cried a voice, as the door was dashed open, and 
Nicholas came into the room. 

In the first moment of surprise, and possibly of alarm, 
Ralph rose from his seat and fell back a few paces, quite 
taken off his guard by this unexpected apparition. In 
another moment, he stood, fixed and immovable; with folded 
arms, regarding his nephew with a scowl, while Kate and 
Miss La Creevy threw themselves between the two, to prevent 
the personal violence which the fierce excitement of Nicholas 
appeared to threaten. 

“ Dear Nicholas,” cried his sister, clinging to him. “ Be 
calm, consider-” 

“ Consider, Kate! ” cried Nicholas, clasping her hand so 
tight in the tumult of his anger that she could scarcely bear 
the pain. “ When I consider all and think of what has passed, 
I need be made of iron to stand before him.” 

“ Or bronze,” said Ralph, quietly; “ there is not hardihood 
enough in flesh and blood to face it out.” 

“ Oh dear, dear! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, “that things 
should have come to such a pass as this! 

“ Who speaks in a tone as if I had done wrong and brought 
disgrace on them?” said Nicholas, looking round. 

“Your mother, sir,” replied Ralph, motioning towards 
her. 




168 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Whose ears have been poisoned by you, by you — who, 
under pretence of deserving the thanks she poured upon you, 
heaped every insult, wrong, and indignity, upon my head; 
5 r ou, who sent me to a den where sordid cruelty, worthy 
of yourself, runs wanton, and youthful misery stalks preco¬ 
cious; where the lightness of childhood shrinks into the 
heaviness of age, and its every promise blights and withers 
as it grows. I call heaven to witness that I have seen all this 
and that he knows it.” 

“ Refute these calumnies,” said Kate, “ and be more patient, 
so that you may give them no advantage. Tell us what you 
really did, and show that they are untrue.” 

“ Of what do they — or of what does he — accuse me ? ” 

“ First, of attacking your master, and being within an ace 
of qualifying yourself to be tried for murder,” interposed 
Ralph. “ I speak plainly, young man, bluster as you will.” 

“ I interfered to save a miserable creature from the vilest 
cruelty. In so doing, I inflicted such punishment upon a 
wretch as he will not readily forget, though far less than he 
deserved from me. If the same scene were renewed before 
me now, I would take the same part; but I would strike harder 
and heavier, and brand him with such marks as he should 
carry to his grave, go to it when he would.” 

“ You hear?” said Ralph, turning to Mrs. Nickleby. 
“ Penitence, this! ” 

“ Oh dear me! I don’t know what to think, I really don’t.” 

“ Do not speak just now, mama, I entreat you,” said Kate. 
“ Dear Nicholas, I only tell you that you may know what 
wickedness can prompt, but they accuse you of — a ring is 
missing, and they dare to say that-” 

“ The woman,” said Nicholas, haughtily, “ the wife of the 
fellow from whom these charges come, dropped — as I sup¬ 
pose— a worthless ring among some clothes of mine, early 
in the morning on which I left the house. At least, I know 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


169 


that she was in the bedroom where they lay, struggling with 
an unhappy child, and that I found it when I opened my 
bundle on the road. I returned it, at once, by coach, and 
they have it now.” 

“ I knew, I knew ” said Kate, looking towards her uncle. 
“ About this boy, love, in whose company they say you left ? ” 

“ The boy, a silly, helpless creature from brutality and hard 
usage, is with me now.” 

“ You hear? ” said Ralph, appealing to the mother again, 
“everything proved, even upon his own confession. Do you 
choose to restore that boy, sir ? ” 

“No. I do not,” said Nicholas, boldly. 

“ You do not? ” sneered Ralph. 

“ No, not to the man with whom I found him. I would 
that I knew on whom he has the claim of birth: I might wring, 
something from his sense of shame, if he were dead to every 
tie of nature.” 

“ Indeed! ” said Ralph. “ Now, sir, will you hear a word 
or two from me? ” 

“ You can speak when and what you please,” replied Nicho¬ 
las, embracing his sister. “ I take little heed of what you 
say or threaten.” 

“ Mighty well, sir, but perhaps it may concern others, who 
may think it worth their while to listen and consider what I 
tell them. I will address your mother, sir, who knows the 
world.” 

“ Oh! and I only too dearly wish I didn’t,” sobbed Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

There really was no necessity for the good lady to be much 
distressed upon this particular head; the extent of her worldly 
knowledge being, to say the least, very questionable; and 
so Ralph seemed to think, for he smiled as he spoke. He 
then glanced steadily at her and Nicholas by turns, as he 
delivered himself in these words: 


170 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Of what I have done, or what I meant to do, for you, 
ma’am, and my niece, I say not one syllable. I held out no 
promise and leave you to judge for yourself. I hold out no 
threat now, but I say that this boy, headstrong, w T ilful, and 
disorderly as he is, should not have one penny of my money, 
or one crust of my bread, or one grasp of my hand, to save 
him from the loftiest gallows in all Europe. I will not meet 
him, come where he comes, or hear his name. I will not 
help him, or those who help him. With a full knowledge of 
what he brought upon you by so doing, he has come back 
in his selfish sloth to be an aggravation of your wants and 
a burden upon his sister’s scanty wages. I regret to leave 
you, and more to leave her, now, but I will not encourage this 
compound of meanness and cruelty, and as I will not ask 
you to renounce him, I see you no more.” 

If Ralph had not known and felt his power in wounding 
those he hated, his glances at Nicholas would have shown 
it to him in all its force as he proceeded in the above address. 
Innocent as the young man was of all wrong, every artful 
insinuation stung; every well-considered sarcasm cut him 
to the quick; and when Ralph noted his pale face and quiver¬ 
ing lip, he hugged himself to mark how well he had chosen 
the taunts best calculated to strike deep into a young and 
ardent spirit. 

“ I can’t help it,” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ I know you 
have been very good to us and meant to do a good deal for 
my daughter. I am quite sure of that; I know you did, and 
it was very kind of you, having her at your house and all — 
and of course it would have been a great thing for her and 
for me too. But I can’t, you know, brother-in-law, I can’t 
renounce my own son, even if he had done all you say he has 
— it’s not possible; I couldn’t do it; so we must go to rack 
and ruin, Kate, my dear. I can bear it, I dare say.” Pour¬ 
ing forth these and a perfectly wonderful train of other dis- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


171 


jointed expressions of regret, which no mortal power but Mrs. 
Nickleby’s could ever have strung together, that lady wrung 
her hands, and her tears fell faster. 

“ Why, do you say if Nicholas has done what they say he 
has, mama ? ” asked Kate, with honest anger. “ You know he 
has not.” 

“ I don’t know what to think, one way or other, my dear. 
Nicholas is so violent, and your uncle has so much composure 
that I can only hear what he says, and not what Nicholas 
does. Never mind, don’t let us talk any more about it. 
We can go to the workhouse, or the Refuge for the Destitute, 
or the Magdalen Hospital, I dare say; and the sooner we 
go the better.” With this extraordinary jumble of chari¬ 
table institutions, Mrs. Nickleby again gave way to her tears. 

“ Stay,” said Nicholas, as Ralph turned to go. “ You need 
not leave this place, sir, for it will be relieved of my presence 
in one minute, and it will be long, very long, before I darken 
these doors again.” 

“ Nicholas,” cried Kate, throwing herself on her brother’s 
shoulder, “ do not say so. My dear brother, you will break 
my heart. Mama, speak to him. Do not mind her, Nicho¬ 
las; she does not mean it; you should know her better. 
Uncle, somebody, for heaven’s sake speak to him.” 

“ I never meant, Kate,” said Nicholas, tenderly, “ I never 
meant to stay among you; think better of me than to suppose 
it possible. I may turn my back on this town a few hours 
sooner than I intended, but what of that? We shall not 
forget each other apart, and better days will come when we 
shall part no more. Be a woman, Kate,” he whispered, 
proudly, “ and do not make me one, while he looks on.” 

“ No, no, I will not,” said Kate, eagerly; “but you will 
not leave us. Oh! think of all the happy days we have had 
together, before these terrible misfortunes came upon us; 
of all the comfort and happiness of home, and the trials we 


172 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

have to bear now; of our having no protector under all the 
slights and wrongs that poverty so much favours, and you 
cannot leave us to bear them alone, without one hand to help 
us.” 

“You will be helped when I am away; I am no help to 
you, no protector; I should bring you nothing but sprrow, 
and want, and suffering. My own mother sees it, and her 
fondness and fears for you point to the course that I should 
take. And so all good angels bless you, Kate, till I can take 
you to some home of mine, where we may revive the happiness 
denied to us now and talk of these trials as of things gone by. 
Do not keep me here, but let me go at once. There dear 
girl — dear girl.” Nicholas -stooped over her for a few 
seconds and, placing her gently in a chair, confided her to their 
honest friend, Miss La Creevy. 

“ I need not entreat your sympathy,” he said, wringing her 
hand, “ for I know your nature. You will never forget 
them.” 

He stepped up to Ralph, who had remained in the same 
attitude which he had preserved throughout the interview. 

“ Whatever step you take, sir,” he said, in a voice inaudible 
beyond themselves, “ I shall keep a strict account of. I leave 
them to you, at your desire. There will be a day of reckoning 
sooner or later, and it will be a heavy one for you if they 
are wronged.” 

Ralph did not allow a muscle of his face to indicate that 
he heard one word of this parting address. He hardly knew 
that it was concluded, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely made 
up her mind to detain her son by force if necessary, when 
Nicholas was gone. 

As he hurried through the streets to his obscure lodging, 
seeking to keep pace, as it were, with the rapidity of the 
thoughts which crowded upon him, many doubts and hesi¬ 
tations arose in his mind and almost tempted him to return. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


173 


But-what would they gain by this? Supposing he were to 
put Ralph Nickleby at defiance and were even fortunate 
enough to obtain some small employment, his being with 
them could only render their present condition worse and 
might greatly impair their future prospects; for his mother 
had spoken of some new kindness towards Kate which she 
had not denied. 

Nicholas at length reached his poor room, where, no longer 
borne up by the excitement which had hitherto sustained him 
but depressed by the revulsion of feeling it left behind, he 
threw himself on the bed and, turning his face to the wall, 
gave free vent to the emotions he had so long stifled. 

He had not heard anybody enter and was unconscious of 
the presence of Smike until, happening to raise his head, he 
saw him standing at the upper end of the room, looking wist¬ 
fully towards him. He withdrew his eyes when he saw that 
he was observed, and affected to be busied with some scanty 
preparations for dinner. 

“Well, Smike,” said Nicholas, as cheerfully as he could 
speak, “ let me hear what new acquaintances you have made 
this morning, or what new wonder you have found out, in 
the compass of this street and the next one.” 

“ No,” said Smike, shaking his head mournfully; “ I must 
talk of something else today.” 

“ Of what you like,” replied Nicholas, good-humouredly. 

“ Of this I know: you are unhappy and have got into 
great trouble by bringing me away. I ought to have known 
that, and stopped behind — I would, indeed, if I had thought 
it then. You — you — are not rich: you have not enough 
for yourself, and I should not be here. You grow,” said the 
lad, laying his hand timidly on that of Nicholas, “ you grow 
thinner every day; your cheek is paler, and your eye more 
sunk. Indeed, I cannot bear to see you so, and think how 
I am burdening you. I tried to go away today, but the 


174 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


thought of your kind face drew me back. I could not leave 
you without a word.” The poor fellow could say no more, 
for his eyes filled with tears, and his voice was gone. 

“ The word which separates us,” said Nicholas, grasping 
him heartily by the shoulder, “ shall never be said by me, 
for you are my only comfort and stay. I would not lose 
you now, Smike, for all the world could give. The thought 
of you has upheld me through all I have endured today, and 
shall, through fifty times such trouble. Give me your hand. 
My heart is linked to yours. We will journey from this 
place together before the week is out. What if I am steeped 
in poverty? You lighten it, and we will be poor together.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


T HE whole capital which Nicholas found himself entitled 
to, after paying his rent and settling with the broker 
from whom he had hired his poor furniture, did not exceed, 
by more than a few halfpence, the sum of twenty shillings. 
And yet he hailed the morning on which he had resolved to 
quit London with a light heart, and sprang from his bed with 
an elasticity of spirit which is happily the lot of young 
persons. 

It was a cold, dry, foggy morning in early spring. A few 
meagre shadows flitted to and fro in the misty streets, and 
occasionally there loomed through the dull vapour the heavy 
outline of some hackney coach wending homewards, which, 
drawing slowly nearer, rolled jangling by, scattering the thin 
crust of frost from its whitened roof, and soon was lost again 
in the mist. 

Nicholas made his way alone to the city, and stood be¬ 
neath the windows of his mother’s house. It was dull and 
bare to see, but it had light and life for him; for there was 
at least one heart within its old walls to which insult or 
dishonour would bring the same blood rushing that flowed 
in his own veins. 

He crossed the road and raised his eyes to the window of 
the room where he knew his sister slept. It was closed and 
dark. “ Poor girl, she little thinks who lingers here.” 

He looked again and felt, for the moment, almost vexed 
that Kate was not there to exchange one word at. parting. 
“ Good God! ” he thought, suddenly correcting himself, 
“ what a boy I am! ” 


175 


176 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ It is better as it is. When I left them before, and could 
have said good bj^e a thousand times if I had chosen, I spared 
them the pain of leave-taking, and why not now ? ” As he 
spoke, some fancied motion of the curtain almost persuaded 
him that Kate was at the window, and by one of those strange 
contradictions of feeling which are common to us all, he 
shrank involuntarily into a doorway, that she might not see 
him. He smiled at his own weakness, said “ God bless them,” 
and walked away with a lighter step. 

Smike was anxiously expecting him when he reached his 
old lodgings, and so was Newman, who had expended a day’s 
income in a can of rum and milk to prepare them for the 
journey. They had tied up the luggage; Smike shouldered 
it, and away they went, with Newman Noggs in company; 
for he had insisted on walking as far as he could with them. 

“ Which way? ” asked Newman, wistfully. 

“ To Kingston first.” 

“ And where afterwards ? Why won’t you tell me ? ” 

“ Because I scarcely know myself, good friend,” rejoined 
Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder; “ and if I did, 
I have neither plan nor prospect yet, and might shift my 
quarters a hundred times before you could possibly com¬ 
municate with me.” 

“ I am afraid you have some deep scheme in your head,” 
said Newman, doubtfully. 

“ So deep, that even I can’t fathom it. Whatever I re¬ 
solve upon, depend upon it I will write you soon.” 

“ You won’t forget? ” 

“ I am not very likely to. I have not so many friends 
that I shall grow confused among the number, and forget 
my best one.” 

Occupied in such discourse, they walked on for a couple 
of hours, as they might have done for a couple of days, if 
Nicholas had not sat himself down .on a stone by the way- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


177 


side and resolutely declared his intention of not moving 
another step until Newman Noggs turned back. Having 
pleaded ineffectually first for another half-mile, and after¬ 
wards for another quarter, Newman was fain to comply, and 
to shape his course towards Golden Square, after interchang¬ 
ing many hearty and affectionate farewells, and many times 
turning back to wave his hat to the two wayfarers when they 
had become mere specks in the distance. 

“ Now listen to me, Smike,” said Nicholas, as they trudged 
with stout hearts onward. “ We are bound for Portsmouth.” 

Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressed no other 
emotion; for whether they had been bound for Portsmouth 
or Port Royal would have been alike to him, so they had 
been bound together. 

“ I don’t know much of these matters, but Portsmouth is 
a seaport town; and if no other employment is to be obtained, 
I should think we might get on board some ship. I am young 
and active and could be useful in many ways. So could you.” 

“ I hope so. When I was at that — you know where I 
mean? ” 

“ Yes, I know; you needn’t name the place.” 

“ Well, when I was there,” resumed Smike, his eyes spark¬ 
ling at the prospect of displaying his abilities, “ I could milk 
a cow and groom a horse, with anybody.” 

“ Ha! I am afraid they don’t keep many animals of either 
kind on board ship, Smike and, even when they have horses, 
that they are not very particular about rubbing them down; 
still you can learn to do something else, you know. Where 
there’s a will, there’s a way.” 

“ And I am very willing.” 

“ God knows you are, and if you fail, it shall go hard, but 
I’ll do enough for us both.” 

“ Do we go all the way, today? ” asked Smike, after a short 
silence. 


178 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ That would be too severe a trial, even for your willing 
legs,” said Nicholas, with a good-humoured smile. “ No. 
Godaiming is some thirty and odd miles from London — as 
I found from a map I borrowed — and I purpose to rest there. 
We must push on again tomorrow, for we are not rich enough 
to loiter. Let me relieve you of that bundle! Come! ” 

“ No, no,” rejoined Smike, falling back a few steps. 
“ Don’t ask me to give it up to you.” 

“ Why not?” 

“ Let me do something for you, at least. You will never 
let me serve you as I ought. You will never know how I 
think, day and night, of ways to please you.” 

“ You are a foolish fellow to say it, for I know it well, and 
see it, or I should be a blind and senseless beast. Let me 
ask you a question while I think of it, and there is no one 
by,” he added, looking him steadily in the face. “ Have you 
a good memory?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Smike, shaking his head sorrowfully. 
“ I think I had once; but it’s all gone now — all gone.” 

“ Why do you think you had once ? ” asked Nicholas, 
turning quickly upon him as though the answer in some way 
helped out the purport of his question. 

“ Because I could remember, when I was a child, but that 
is very, very long ago, or at least it seems so. I was always 
confused and giddy at that place you took me from, and could 
never remember, and sometimes couldn’t even understand, 
what they said to me. I — let me see — let me see! ” 

“ You are wandering now,” said Nicholas, touching him 
on the arm. 

“No,” replied his companion, with a vacant look. “ I 

was only thinking how-.” He shivered involuntarily 

as he spoke. 

“ Think no more of that place, for it is all over,” retorted 
Nicholas, fixing his eye full upon that of his companion, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


179 


which was fast settling into an unmeaning stupefied gaze, 
once habitual to him, and common even then. “ What of 
the first day you went to Yorkshire? ” 

“ Eh! ” cried the lad. 

“ That was before you began to lose your recollection, you 
know,” said Nicholas, quietly. “ Was the weather hot or 
cold? ” 

“ Wet, very wet. I have always said, when it has rained 
hard, that it was like the night I came: and they used to 
crowd round and . laugh to see me cry when the rain fell 
heavily. It was like a child, they said, and that made me 
think of it more. I turned cold all over sometimes, for I 
could see myself as I was then, coming in at the very same 
door.” 

“ As you were then,” repeated Nicholas, with assumed care¬ 
lessness ; “ how was that ? ” 

“ Such a little creature, that they might have had pity and 
mercy upon me, only to remember it.” 

“You didn’t find your way there, alone! ” 

“No; oh, no.” 

“ Who was with you ? ” 

“A man — a dark, withered man. I have heard them 
say so, at the school, and I remembered that before. I was 
glad to leave him, I was afraid of him; but they made me 
more afraid of them, and used me harder too.” 

“ Look at me,” said Nicholas, wishing to attract his full 
attention. “There; don’t turn away. Do you remember 
no woman, no kind woman, who hung over you once, and 
kissed your lips, and called you her child ? ” 

“No,” said the poor creature, shaking his head; “no, 
never.” 

“Nor any house but that house in Yorkshire?” 

“No,” rejoined the youth, with a melancholy look; “a 
room — I remember I slept in a room, a large lonesome room 


180 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

at the top of a house, where there was a trapdoor in the 
ceiling. I have covered my head with the clothes often, not 
to see it, for it frightened me — a young child with no one 
near at night, and I used to wonder what was on the other 
side. There was a clock, too, an old clock, in one corner. I 
remember that. I have never forgotten that room; for when 
I have terrible dreams, it comes back, just as it was. I see 
things and people in it that I had never seen then,- but there 
is the room just as it used to be, that never changes.” 

“ Will you let me take the bundle now ? ” asked Nicholas, 
abruptly changing the theme. 

“ No, no. Come, let us walk on.” 

He quickened his pace as he said this, apparently under 
the impression that they had been standing still, during the 
whole of the previous dialogue. Nicholas marked him closely, 
and every word of this conversation remained upon his 
memory. 

It was by this time within an hour of noon; and although 
a dense vapour still enveloped the city they had left, in the 
open country it was clear and fair. 

A broad, fine, honest sun lighted up the green pastures and 
dimpled water with the semblance of summer, while it left 
the travellers all the invigorating freshness of that early time 
of year. The ground seemed elastic under their feet; the 
sheep bells were music to their ears; and exhilarated by 
exercise and stimulated by hope, they pushed onward with 
the strength of lions. 

The day wore on, and all these bright colours subsided and 
assumed a quieter tint. 

To Godaiming they came at last, and here they bargained 
for two humble beds and slept soundly. In the morning 
they were astir, though not quite so early as the sun, and 
again afoot, if not with all the freshness of yesterday, still, 
with enough of hope and spirit to bear them cheerily on. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


181 


It was a harder day’s journey than yesterday’s, for there 
were long and weary hills to climb; and in journeys, as in 
life, it is a great deal easier to go down hill than up. How¬ 
ever, they kept on, with unabated perseverance, and the 
hill has not yet lifted its face to heaven that perseverance 
will not gain the summit of at last . 1 

By degrees, the prospect receded more and more on either 
hand, and as they had been shut out from rich and exten¬ 
sive scenery, so they emerged once again upon the open 
country. The knowledge that they were drawing near their 
place of destination gave them fresh courage to proceed; 
but the way had been difficult, and they had loitered on the 
road, and Smike was tired. Thus twilight had already 
closed in when they turned off the path to the door of a road¬ 
side inn, yet twelve miles short of Portsmouth. 

“ Twelve miles,” said Nicholas, leaning with both hands 
on his stick, and looking doubtfully at Smike. 

“ Twelve long miles,” repeated the landlord. 

“ Is it a good road? ” inquired Nicholas. 

“ Very bad.” As of course, being a landlord, he would say. 

“ I want to get on; I scarcely know wffiat to do.” 

“ Don’t let me influence you, I wouldn’t go on if it was me.” 

“ Wouldn’t you? ” asked Nicholas. 

“ Not if I knew when I was well off,” said the landlord. 
And having said it he pulled up his apron, put his hands 
into his pockets, and, taking a step or two outside the door, 
looked down the dark road with an assumption of great 
indifference. 

A glance at the toil-worn face of Smike determined Nicho¬ 
las; so without any further consideration he made up his 
mind to stay where he was. 

The landlord led them into the kitchen; and as there was 
a good fire, he remarked that it was very cold. If there had 
1 This is a good sentence to memorize. 


182 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


happened to be a bad one, he would have observed that it 
was very warm. 

“ What can you give us for supper? ” was Nicholas’s natural 
question. 

“ Why — what would you like ? ” 

Nicholas suggested cold meat, but there was no cold meat 
— poached eggs, but there were no eggs — mutton chops, 
but there wasn’t a mutton chop within three miles, though 
there had been more last week than they knew what to do 
with, and would be an extraordinary supply the day after 
tomorrow. 

“ Then I must leave it entirely to you, as I would have 
done, at first, if you had allowed me,” said Nicholas. 

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you what,” rejoined the landlord. 
“ There’s a gentleman in the parlour that’s ordered a hot 
beefsteak pudding and potatoes, at nine. There’s more of 
it than he can manage, and I have very little doubt that, if 
I ask leave, you can sup with him. I’ll do that, in a minute.” 

“ No, no,” said Nicholas, detaining him. “ I would rather 
not. I — at least — pshaw! why cannot I speak out ? Here; 
you see that I am travelling in a very humble manner, and 
have made my way hither on foot. It is more than probable, 
I think, that the gentleman may not relish my company; and 
although I am the dusty figure you see, I am too proud to 
thrust myself into his.” 

“ Lord love you,” said the landlord, “ it’s only Mr. 
Crummies; he isn’t particular.” 

“ Is he not ? ” asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the 
truth, the prospect of the savoury pudding was making some 
impression. 

“ Not he, he’ll like your way of talking, I know. But 
we’ll soon see all about that. Just wait a minute.” 

The landlord hurried into the parlour without staying for 
further permission, nor did Nicholas strive to prevent him, 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


183 


wisely considering that supper, under the circumstances, was 
too serious a matter to trifle with. It was not long before 
the host returned in a condition of much excitement. 

“ All right, I knew he would. You’ll see something rather 
worth seeing in there. Ecod, how they are agoing of it! ” 

There was no time to inquire to what this exclamation 
referred, for he had already thrown open the door of the 
room, into which Nicholas, followed by Smike with the 
bundle on his shoulder (he carried it about with him as 
vigilantly as if it had been a sack of gold), straightway re¬ 
paired. 

Nicholas was prepared for something odd, but not for 
something quite so odd as the sight he encountered. At the 
upper end of the room were a couple of boys, one of them 
very tall and the other very short, both dressed as sailors — 
or at least as theatrical sailors, with belts, buckles, and 
pistols complete — fighting what is called in playbills a 
terrific combat, with two of those short broadswords with 
basket hilts which are commonly used at our minor theatres. 
The short boy had gained a great advantage over the tall boy, 
and both were overlooked by a large heavy man, perched 
against the corner of a table, who emphatically adjured them 
to strike a little more fire out of the swords, and they couldn t 
fail to bring the house down, on the very first night. 

“ Mr. Vincent Crummies,” said the landlord with an air 
of great deference. “ This is the young gentleman.” 

Mr. Vincent Crummies received Nicholas with an inclina¬ 
tion of the head, something between the courtesy of a Roman 
emperor and the nod of a pot companion, and bade the land¬ 
lord shut the door and be gone. 

“ There’s a picture,” said Mr. Crummies, motioning Nicho¬ 
las not to advance and spoil it. “ The little ’un has him, if 
the big ’un doesn’t knock under, in three seconds, he’s a dead 
man. Do that again, boys.” 


184 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


The two combatants went to work afresh, and chopped 
away until the swords emitted a shower of sparks, to the 
great satisfaction of Mr. Crummies, who appeared to con¬ 
sider this a very great point indeed. 

After this, there was a good deal of dodging about, and 
then the short sailor (who was the moral character evidently, 
for he always had the best of it) made a violent demonstra¬ 
tion and closed with the tall sailor, who, after a few un¬ 
availing struggles, went down, and expired in great torture, 
as the short sailor put his foot upon his breast, and bored 
a hole in him through and through. 

“ That’ll be a double encore if you take care, boys,” said 
Mr. Crummies. “ You had better get your wind now and 
change your clothes.” 

“ What do you think of that, sir? ” inquired Mr. Crummies. 

“Very good, indeed — capital,” answered Nicholas. 

“ You won’t see such boys as those very often, I think,” 
said Mr. Crummies. 

Nicholas assented — observing, that if they were a little 
better match—-— 

“ Match! ” cried Mr. Crummies. 

“ I mean if they were a little more of a size,” said Nicholas, 
explaining himself. 

“ Size! why it’s the essence of the combat that there should 
be a foot or two between them. How are you to get up the 
sympathies of the audience in a legitimate manner if there 
isn’t a little man contending against a big one — unless 
there’s at least five to one, and we haven’t hands enough for 
that business in our company.” 

“ I see, I beg your pardon. That didn’t occur to me, I 
confess.” 

“ It’s the main point. I open at Portsmouth the day after 
tomorrow. If you’re going there, look into the theatre, 
and see how that’ll tell.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


185 


Nicholas promised to do so, if he could, and drawing a 
chair near the fire, fell into conversation with the manager, 
who laid open his affairs without the smallest reserve and 
talked at some length upon the merits of his company and 
the acquirements of his family, of both of which the two 
broadsword boys formed an honourable portion. There was 
to be a gathering, it seemed, of the different ladies and gentle¬ 
men of the theatrical company at Portsmouth on the morrow, 
wdiither the father and sons were proceeding. 

“ You are going that way? ” asked the manager. 

“ Ye-yes, yes, I am.” 

“ Do you know that town at all ? ” inquired the manager, 
who seemed to consider himself entitled to the same degree 
of confidence as he had himself exhibited. 

“ No.” 

“ Never there? ” 

“ Never.” 

Mr. Crummies looked from time to time with great interest 
at Smike, with whom he had appeared considerably struck 
from the first. He had now fallen asleep, and was nodding 
in his chair. 

“ Excuse my saying so,” said the manager, leaning over to 
Nicholas, and sinking his voice, “ but what a capital counte¬ 
nance your friend has got! ” 

“ Poor fellow! I wish it were a little more plump, and 
less haggard.” 

“ Plump! ” exclaimed the manager, quite horrified, “ you’d 
spoil it for ever.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ Think so, sir! Why as he is now,” said the manager, 
striking his knee emphatically; “ without a pad upon his 
body, and hardly a touch of paint upon his face, he’d make 
such an actor for the starved business as was never seen in 
this country. Only let him be tolerably well up in the 


186 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, with the slightest possible 
dab of red on the tip of his nose, and he’d be certain of three 
rounds the moment he put his head out.” 

“ You view him with a professional eye,” said Nicholas, 
laughing. 

“ And well I may; I never saw a young fellow so regularly 
cut out for that line since I’ve been in the profession. And I 
played the heavy children when I was eighteen months old.” 

The appearance of the beefsteak pudding, which came in 
simultaneously with the junior Vincent Crummleses, turned 
the conversation to other matters, and indeed, for a time, 
stopped it altogether. These two young gentlemen wielded 
their knives and forks with scarcely less address than their 
broadswords; and as the whole party were quite as sharp 
set as either class of weapons, there was no time for talking 
until the supper had been disposed of. 

The Master Crummleses had no sooner swallowed the 
last morsel of food than they evinced, by various half-sup¬ 
pressed yawns and stretchings of their limbs, an obvious 
inclination to retire for the night, which Smike had betrayed 
still more strongly: he having, in the course of the meal, 
fallen asleep several times while in the very act of eating. 
Nicholas therefore proposed that they should break up at 
once, but the manager would by no means hear of it, vowing 
that he had promised himself the pleasure of inviting his new 
acquaintance to share a bowl of punch and that, if he declined, 
he should deem it very unhandsome behaviour. 

“ Let them go,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, “ and we’ll 
have it snugly and cosily together by the fire.” 

Nicholas was not much disposed to sleep — being in truth 
too anxious — so, after a little demur, he accepted the offer, 
and having exchanged a shake of the hand with the young 
Crummleses, and the manager having on his part bestowed 
a most affectionate benediction on Smike, he sat himself 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


187 


down opposite to that gentleman by the fireside to assist in 
emptying the bowl, which soon afterwards appeared, steaming, 
in a manner which was quite exhilarating to behold and 
sending forth a most grateful-and inviting fragrance. 

But despite the punch and the manager, who told a variety 
of stories, and smoked tobacco from a pipe, and inhaled it 
in the shape of snuff with a most astonishing power, Nicholas 
was absent and dispirited. His thoughts were in his old 
home, and when they reverted to his present condition, the 
uncertainty of the morrow cast a gloom upon him which his 
utmost efforts were unable to dispel. His attention wan¬ 
dered. Although he heard the manager’s voice, he was deaf 
to what he said; and when Mr. Vincent Crummies concluded 
the history of some long adventure with a loud laugh and an 
inquiry as to what Nicholas would have done under the same 
circumstances, he was obliged to make the best apology in 
his power and to confess the entire ignorance of all he had 
been talking about. 

“ Why, so I saw. You’re uneasy in your mind. What’s 
the matter? ” 

Nicholas could not refrain from smiling at the abruptness 
of the question but, thinking it scarcely worth while to parry 
it, owned that he was under some apprehensions lest he might 
not succeed in the object which had brought him to that part 
of the country. 

“ And what’s that ? ” 

“ Getting something to do which will keep me and my poor 
fellow traveller in the common necessities of life. That’s the 
truth. You guessed it long ago, I dare say, so I may as well 
have the credit of telling it to you with a good grace.” 

“ What’s to be got to do at Portsmouth more than any¬ 
where else ? ” asked Mr. Vincent Crummies, melting the 
sealing wax on the stem of his pipe in the candle and rolling 
it out afresh with his little finger. 


188 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ There are many vessels leaving the port, I suppose. I 
shall try for a berth in some ship or other. There is meat 
and drink there, at all events.” 

“ Salt meat and new rum, pease pudding and chaff bis¬ 
cuits,” said the manager, taking a whiff of his pipe to keep 
it alight and returning to his work of embellishment. 

“ One may do worse than that. I can rough it, I believe, 
as well as most young men of my age and previous habits.” 

“ You need be able to, if you go on board ship; but you 
won’t.” 

“ Why not? ” asked Nicholas. 

“ Because there’s not a skipper or mate that would think 
you worth your salt, when he could get a practised hand, and 
they as plentiful there as the oysters in the streets.” 

“ What do you mean? ” asked Nicholas, alarmed by this 
prediction and the confident tone in which it had been uttered. 
“ Men are not born able seamen. They must be reared, I 
suppose ? ” 

Mr. Vincent Crummies nodded his head. “They must; 
but not at your age, or from young gentlemen like you.” 

There was a pause. The countenance of Nicholas fell, and 
he gazed ruefully at the fire. 

“ Does no other profession occur to you, which a young 
man of your figure and address could take up easily and see 
the world to advantage in? ” 

“ No,” said Nicholas, shaking his head. 

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you one,” said Mr. Crummies, throw¬ 
ing his pipe into the fire and raising his voice. “ The 
stage.” 

“ The stage! ” cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud. 

“ The theatrical profession. I am in the theatrical pro¬ 
fession myself, my wife is in the theatrical profession, my 
children are in the theatrical profession. I had a dog that 
lived and died in it from a puppy; and my chaise pony goes 


189 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

on in Timour the Tartar. I’ll bring you out, and your friend 
too. Say the word. I want a novelty.” 

“ I don’t know anything about it,” rejoined Nicholas, 
whose breath had been almost taken away by this sudden 
proposal. “ I never acted a part in my life, except at school.” 

“ There’s genteel comedy in your walk and manner, juve¬ 
nile tragedy in your eye, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh. 
You’ll do as well as if you had thought of nothing else but 
the lamps from your birth downwards.” 

Nicholas thought of the small amount of small change 
that would remain in his pocket after paying the tavern 
bill, and he hesitated. 

“ You can be useful to us in a hundred ways. Think what 
capital bills a man of your education could write for the 
shop windows.” 

“ Well, I think I could manage that department.” 

“ To be sure you could. ‘ For further particulars see small 
handbills’ — we might have half a volume in every one of 
’em. Pieces too; why, you could write us a piece to bring 
out the whole strength of the company, whenever we wanted' 
one.” 

“ I am not quite so confident about that. But I dare say 
I could scribble something now and then that would suit 
you.” 

“ We’ll have a new show piece out directly,” said the 
manager. “ Let me see — peculiar resources of this estab¬ 
lishment— new and splendid scenery — you must manage 
to introduce a real pump and two washing tubs.” 

“ Into the piece ? ” 

“ Yes, I bought ’em cheap at a sale the other day, and 
they’ll come in admirably. That’s the London play. Then 
look up some dresses and properties, and have a piece written 
to fit ’em. Most of the theatres keep an author on pur¬ 
pose.” 


190 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Indeed! ” 

“ Oh, yes, a common thing. It’ll look very well in the 
bills in separate lines — Real pump! — Splendid tubs! 
Great attraction! You don’t happen to be anything of an 
artist, do you ? ” 

“ That is not one of my accomplishments.” 

“ Ah! Then it can’t be helped. If you had been, we 
might have had a large woodcut of the last scene for the 
posters, showing the whole depth of the stage, with the 
pump and tubs in the middle; but, however, if you’re not, 
it can’t be helped! ” 

“ What should I get for all this? ” inquired Nicholas, after 
a few moments’ reflection. “ Could I live by it? ” 

“ Live by it! Like a prince! With your own salary, 
and your friend’s, and your writings, you’d make — ah! 
you’d make a pound a week! ” 

“ You don’t say so! ” 

“ I do indeed, and if we had a run of good houses, nearly 
double the money.” 

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders, but sheer destitution was 
before him. What if he went abroad, and his mother or Kate 
were to die the while ? Without more deliberation, he hastily 
declared it was a bargain, and gave Mr. Vincent Crummies 
his hand upon it. 

As Mr. Crummies had a strange four-legged animal in the 
inn stables which he called a pony and a vehicle of unknown 
design which he called a four-wheeled phaeton, Nicholas 
proceeded on his journey next morning with greater ease 
than he had expected, the manager and himself occupying the 
front seat and the Master Crummleses and Smike being 
packed together behind. 

“ Many and many is the circuit this pony has gone,” said 
Mr. Crummies. “ He is quite one of us. His mother was on 
the stage. She ate apple pie at a circus for fourteen years, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 191 

fired pistols, and went to bed in a night cap, and took the 
low comedy entirely. His father was a dancer.” 

“Was the father at all distinguished?” asked Nicholas. 

“ Not very. He was rather a low sort of pony. The fact 
is, he had been originally jobbed out by the day, and he never 
quite got over his old habits. He was clever in melodrama, 
too, but not very fine. When the mother died, he took the 
port-wine business.” 

“The port-wine business! ” exclaimed Nicholas. 

“ Drinking port wine with the clown, but he was greedy, 
and one night bit off the bowl of the glass, and choked him¬ 
self, so his vulgarity was the death of him at last.” 

The descendant of this ill-starred animal requiring in¬ 
creased attention from Mr. Crummies as he progressed in 
his day’s work, that gentleman had very little time for con¬ 
versation. Nicholas was thus left to entertain himself with 
his own thoughts until they arrived at the drawbridge at 
Portsmouth, when Mr. Crummies pulled up. 

“ We’ll get down here,” said the manager, “ and the boys 
will take the pony round to the stable, and call at my lodgings 
with the luggage. You had better let yours be taken there, 
for the present.” 

Thanking Mr. Vincent Crummies for his obliging offer, 
Nicholas jumped out and, giving Smike his arm, accompanied 
the manager up High Street on their way to the theatre, 
feeling nervous and uncomfortable enough at the prospect of 
an immediate introduction to a scene so new to him. 

They passed a great many bills, pasted against the walls 
and displayed in windows, wherein the names of Mr. Vincent 
Crummies, Mrs. Vincent Crummies, Master Crummies, 
Master P. Crummies, and Miss Crummies, were printed in 
very large letters, and everything else in very small ones. 
Turning at length into an entry, in which was a strong smell 
of orange peel and lamp oil, with an under-current of saw- 


192 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


dust, they groped their way through a dark passage, de¬ 
scended a step or two, threaded a little maze of canvas screens 
and paint-pots, and emerged upon the stage of the Ports¬ 
mouth Theatre. 

“ Here we are,” said Mr. Crummies. 

It was not very light, but Nicholas found himself close to 
the first entrance on the prompt side, among bare walls, 
dusty scenes, mildewed clouds, heavily daubed draperies, and 
dirty floors. He looked about him. Ceiling, pit, boxes, 
gallery, orchestra, fittings, and decorations -of every kind — 
all looked coarse, cold, gloomy, and wretched. 

“ Is this a theatre? ” whispered Smike, in amazement; “ I 
thought a theatre was a blaze of light and finery.” 

“ Why, so it is,” replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised; 
“ but not by day, Smike — not by day.” 

The manager’s voice recalled him from a more careful in¬ 
spection of the building to the opposite side of the pro¬ 
scenium, where, at a small mahogany table with rickety legs 
and of an oblong shape sat a stout, portly female, apparently 
between forty and fifty, in a tarnished silk cloak, with her 
bonnet dangling by the strings in her hand and her hair (of 
which she had a great quantity) braided in a large festoon 
over each temple. 

“ Mr. Johnson,” said the manager (for Nicholas had given 
this name as his own), “let me introduce Mrs. Vincent 
Crummies.” 

“ I am glad to see you, sir,” said Mrs. Vincent Crummies, 
in a sepulchral voice. “ I am very glad to see you, and still 
more happy to hail you as a promising member of our corps.” 

The lady shook Nicholas by the hand as she addressed him 
in these terms. He saw it was a large one, but had not 
expected quite such an iron grip as that with which she 
honoured him. 

"And this,” said the lady, crossing to Smike, as tragic 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 193 

actresses cross when they obey a stage direction, “ and this 
is the other. You, too, are welcome, sir.” 

“He’ll do, I think, my'dear?” said the manager, taking 
a pinch of snuff. 

“He is admirable,” replied the lady; “an acquisition, 
indeed.” 

As Mrs. Vincent Crummies recrossed back to the table, 
there bounded on to the stage from some mysterious inlet 
a little girl in a dirty white frock with tucks up to the knees, 
short trousers, sandaled shoes, white spencer, 1 pink gauze 
bonnet, green veil, and curl papers, who turned a pirouette, 
cut twice in the air, turned another pirouette, then, looking 
off at the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded forward to within 
six inches of the footlights, and fell into a beautiful attitude 
of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an old pair of buff slippers 
came in at one powerful slide and, chattering his teeth, 
fiercely brandished a walking stick. 

“ They are going through The Indian Savage and the 
Maiden ,” said Mrs. Crummies. 

“ Oh! ” said the manager, “ the little ballet interlude. 
Very good, go on. A little this way, if you please, Mr. John¬ 
son. That’ll do. Now! ” 

The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed, and 
the savage, becoming ferocious, made a slide towards the 
maiden; but the maiden avoided him in six twirls, and came 
down, at the end of the last one, upon the very points of her 
toes. This seemed to make some impression upon the savage; 
for, after a little more ferocity and chasing of the maiden into 
corners, he began to relent, and stroked his face several times 
with his right thumb and four fingers, thereby intimating that 
he was struck with admiration of the maiden’s beauty. 
Acting upon the impulse of this passion, he (the savage) 
began to hit himself severe thumps in the chest and to exhibit 


1 A closet fitting jacket. 


194 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

other indications of being desperately in love, which being 
rather a prosy proceeding, was very likely the cause of the 
maiden’s falling asleep. Whether it was or no, asleep she 
did fall, sound as a church, on a sloping bank, and the savage 
perceiving it, leaned his left ear on his left hand, and nodded 
sideways, to intimate to all whom it might concern that she 
was asleep, and no shamming. Being left to himself, the 
savage had a dance, all alone. Just as he left off, the maiden 
woke up, rubbed her eyes, got off the bank, and had a dance 
all alone too — such a dance that the savage looked on in 
ecstasy all the while; and when it was done, plucked from a 
neighbouring tree some botanical curiosity, resembling a small 
pickled cabbage, and offered it to the maiden, who at first 
wouldn’t have it, but, on the savage’s shedding tears, relented. 
Then the savage jumped for joy; then the maiden jumped 
for rapture at the sweet smell of the pickled cabbage. Then 
the savage and the maiden danced violently together, and, 
finally, the savage dropped down on one knee, and the 
maiden stood on one leg upon his other knee, thus concluding 
the ballet and leaving the spectators in a state of pleasing 
uncertainty, whether she would ultimately marry the savage, 
or return to her friends. 

“ Very well indeed,” said Mr. Crummies; “bravo! ” 

“ Bravo! ” cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of 
everything. “Beautiful!” 

“This, sir,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, bringing the 
maiden forward, “this is the infant phenomenon — Miss 
Ninetta Crummies.” 

“ Your daughter? ” 

“ My daughter — my daughter, the idol of every place we 
go into, sir. We have had complimentary letters about this 
girl, sir, from the nobility and gentry of almost every town 
in England.” 

“ I am not surprised at that; she must be quite a genius.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


195 


“ Quite a-! ” Mr. Crummies stopped: language was 

not powerful enough to describe that infant phenomenon. 
“ I’ll tell you what, sir,” he said; “ the talent of this child is 
not to be imagined. She must be seen, sir — seen — to be 
ever so faintly appreciated. There; go to your mother, my 
dear.” 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, who 
had been writing on a piece of paper, “ we’ll call The Mortal 
Struggle tomorrow at ten; everybody for the procession. 
Intrigue and Ways and Means, you’re all up in, so we shall 
only want one rehearsal. Everybody at ten, if you please.” 

“ 0n Monday morning we shall read a new piece,” said 
Mr. Crummies; “ the name’s not known yet, but everybody 
will have a good part. Mr. Johnson will take care of that.” 

“ Hallo! ” said Nicholas, starting. “ I- ” 

“ On Monday morning,” repeated Mr. Crummies, raising 
his voice, to drown the unfortunate Mr. Johnson’s remon¬ 
strance; “that’ll do, ladies and gentlemen.” 

The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to 
quit; and in a few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by 
the Crummies family, Nicholas, and Smike. 

“ Upon my word,” said Nicholas, taking the manager aside, 
“ I don’t think I can be ready by Monday.” 

“ Pooh, pooh.” 

“ But really I can’t. My invention is not accustomed to 
these demands, or possibly I might produce-” 

“Invention! what the devil’s that got to do with it! ” 
cried the manager, hastily. 

“ Everything, my dear sir.” 

“ Nothing, my dear sir,” retorted the manager, with evi¬ 
dent impatience. “ Do you understand French ? ” 

“ Perfectly well.” 

“ Very good,” said the manager, opening the table drawer 
and giving a roll of paper from it to Nicholas. “ There! 



196 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Just turn that into English, and put your name on the title 
page.” 

Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play. 

“ What are you going to do about your lodgings?” said 
Mr. Crummies. 

Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week, 
it would be an uncommon convenience to have a turn-up 
bedstead in the pit, but he merely remarked that he had not 
turned his thoughts that way. 

“ Come home with me, then, and my boys shall go with you 
after dinner and show you the most likely place.” 

The offer was not to be refused; Nicholas and Mr. 
Crummies gave Mrs. Crummies an arm each and walked up 
the street in stately array. Smike, the boys, and the Phe¬ 
nomenon went home by a shorter cut. 

Mr. Crummies lived in Saint Thomas’s Street at the house 
of a pilot, who sported a boat-green door with window frames 
of the same colour, and had the little finger of a drowned 
man on his parlour mantel shelf, with other maritime and 
natural curiosities. He displayed also a brass knocker, a 
brass plate, and a brass bell handle, all very bright and 
shining; and had a mast, with a vane on the top of it, in his 
back yard. 

“ You are welcome,” said Mrs. Crummies, turning round 
to Nicholas when they reached the bow-windowed front room 
on the first floor. 

' Nicholas bowed his acknowledgments and was unfeignedly 
glad to see the cloth laid. 

“ We have but a shoulder of mutton with onion sauce,” said 
Mrs. Crummies, in the same charnel-house voice; “ but such 
as our dinner is, we beg you to partake of it.” 

“ You are very good, I shall do it ample justice.” 

“ Vincent,” said Mrs. Crummies, “ what is the hour? ” 

“ Five minutes past dinner time.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 197 

Mrs. Crummies rang the bell. “ Let the mutton and onion 
sauce appear.” 

The servant who attended disappeared, and after a short 
interval reappeared with the festive banquet. Nicholas and 
the infant phenomenon opposed each other at the pembroke 
table, 1 and Smike and the Master Crummleses dined on the 
sofa bedstead. 

“ Are they very theatrical people here? ” asked Nicholas. 

“ No,” replied Mr. Crummies, shaking his head, “ far from 
it — far from it.” 

“ I pity them,” observed Mrs. Crummies. 

“ So do I,” said Nicholas, “ if they have no relish for 
theatrical entertainments, properly conducted.” 

“ Then they have none, sir,” rejoined Mr. Crummies. 
“ To the infant’s benefit last year, on which occasion she 
repeated three of her most popular characters, and also 
appeared in The Fairy Porcupine, as originally performed 
by her, there was a house of no more than four pound twelve.” 

“ Is it possible? ” cried Nicholas. 

“ And two pound of that was trust, pa,” said the Phe¬ 
nomenon. 

“And two pounds of that was trust,” repeated Mr. 
Crummies. “ Mrs. Crummies herself has played to mere 
handfuls.” 

“ But they are always a taking audience, Vincent,” said 
the manager’s wife. 

“ Most audiences are, when they have good acting — real 
good acting — the regular thing,” replied Mr. Crummies, 
forcibly. 

“ Do you give lessons, ma’am? ” inquired Nicholas. 

“ I do.” 

“ There is no teaching here, I suppose ? ” 

“ There has been; I have received pupils here. I imparted 
1 A table with drop leaves. 


198 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

tuition to the daughter of a dealer in ships’ provision; but it 
afterwards appeared that she was insane when she first came 
to me. It was very extraordinary that she should come, 
under such circumstances.” 

Not feeling quite so sure of that, Nicholas thought it best 
to hold his peace. 

“Let me see,” said the manager cogitating after dinner. 
“ Would you like some nice little part with the infant? ” 

“You are very good,” replied Nicholas, hastily; “but I 
think perhaps it would be better if I had somebody of my own 
size at first, in case I should turn out awkward. I should 
feel more at home perhaps.” 

“ True, perhaps you would. And you could play up to 
the infant, in time, you know.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Nicholas, devoutly hoping that it 
would be a very long time before he was honoured with this 
distinction. 

“ Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Mr. Crummies. 
“ You shall study Romeo when you’ve done that piece — don’t 
forget to throw the pump and tubs in by the by — yes, that’ll 
do very well. Rover too — you might get up Rover while 
you were about it, and Cassio, and Jeremy Diddler. You 
can easily knock them off; one part helps the other so much. 
Here they are, cues and all.” 

With these hasty general directions Mr. Crummies thrust 
a number of little books into the faltering hands of Nicholas 
and, bidding his eldest son go with him and show where 
lodgings were to be had, shook him by the hand, and wished 
him good night. 

There is no lack of comfortable furnished apartments in 
Portsmouth, and no difficulty in finding some that are pro¬ 
portionate to very slender finances; but the former were 
too good, and the latter too bad, and they went into so many 
houses and came out unsuited, that Nicholas seriously began 


199 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

to think he should be obliged to ask permission to spend 
the night in the theatre, after all. 

Eventually, however, they stumbled upon two small rooms 
up three pair of stairs, or rather two pair and a ladder, at 
a tobacconist’s shop, on the Common Hard, a dirty street 
leading down to the dockyard. These Nicholas engaged, 
only too happy to have escaped any request for payment 
of a week’s rent beforehand. 

“ There! Lay down our personal property, Smike,” he 
said, after showing young Crummies downstairs. “ We 
have fallen upon strange times, and heaven only knows 
the end of them, but I am tired with the events of these 
three days and will postpone reflection till tomorrow — if I 
can.” 

Nicholas was up early in the morning; but he had scarcely 
begun to dress when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs, 
and was presently saluted by the voices of Mr. Folair the 
pantomimist and Mr. Lenville the tragedian, two important 
actors in Mr. Crummies’s company whom Nicholas had met 
the day before. 

“ House, house, house! ” cried Mr. Folair. 

“What, ho! within there! ” said Mr. Lenville, in a deep 
voice. 

“ Confound these fellows! ” thought Nicholas; “ they have 
come to breakfast, I suppose. “ I’ll open the door directly, 
if you’ll wait an instant.” 

The gentlemen entreated him not to hurry himself and, to 
beguile the interval, had a fencing bout with their walking 
sticks on the very small landing place to the unspeakable 
discomposure of all the other lodgers downstairs. 

“ Here, come in,” said Nicholas, when he had completed 
his dressing. “ In the name of all that’s horrible, don’t make 
that noise outside.” 

“An uncommon snug little box this,” said Mr. Lenville, 


200 


NICHOLAS.NICKLEBY 


stepping into the front room, and taking his hat off, before 
he could get in at all. “ Pernicious snug.” 

“For a man at all particular in such matters, it might be 
a trifle too snug,” said Nicholas; “for although it is, un¬ 
doubtedly, a great convenience to be able to reach anything 
you want from the ceiling or the floor, or either side of the 
room, without having to move from your chair, still these 
advantages can only be had in an apartment of the most 
limited size.” 

“ It isn’t a bit too confined for a single man,” returned Mr. 
Lenville. “That reminds me — my wife, Mr. Johnson,— 
I hope she’ll have some good part in this piece of 
yours.” 

“ I glanced at the French copy last night,” said Nicholas. 
“ It looks very good, I think.” 

“ What do you mean to do for me, old fellow ? ” asked 
Mr. Lenville, poking the struggling fire with his walking 
stick, and afterwards wiping it on the skirt of his coat. 
“ Anything in the gruff and grumble way ? ” 

“ You turn your wife and child out of doors,” said Nicholas; 
“and in a fit of rage and jealousy stab your eldest son in 
the library.” 

“Do I though! ” exclaimed Mr. Lenville. “That’s very 
good business.” 

“ After which you are troubled with remorse till the last 
act, and then you make up your mind to destroy yourself. 
But, just as you are raising the pistol to your head, a clock 
strikes — ten.” 

“ I see,” cried Mr. Lenville. “ Very good.” 

“You pause, you recollect to have heard a clock strike 
ten in your infancy. The pistol falls from your hand — 
you are overcome — you burst into tears, and become a 
virtuous and exemplary character for ever afterwards.” 

“Capital! ” said Mr. Lenville. “That’s a sure card, a 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 201 

sure card. Get the curtain down,with a touch of nature like 
that, and it’ll be a triumphant success.” 

“ Is there anything good for me?” inquired Mr. Folair, 
anxiously. 

“ Let me see,” said Nicholas. “ You play the faithful and 
attached servant; you are turned out of doors with the wife 
and child.” 

“ Always coupled with that infernal Phenomenon,” sighed 
Mr. Folair; “and we go into poor lodgings where I won’t 
take any wages and talk sentiment, I suppose ? ” 

“ Why — yes,” replied Nicholas: “ that is the course of 
the piece.” 

“ I must have a dance of some kind, you know,” said Mr. 
Folair. “ You’ll have to introduce one for the Phenomenon, 
so you’d better make a pas de deux, arid save time.” 

“ There’s nothing easier than that,” said Mr. Lenville, 
observing the disturbed looks of the young dramatist. 

“ Upon my word I don’t see how it’s to be done,” rejoined 
Nicholas. 

“ Why, isn’t it obvious? ” reasoned Mr. Lenville. “ Gad- 
zooks, who can help seeing the way to do it ? — you astonish 
me! You get the distressed lady, and the little child, and 
the attached servant into the poor lodgings, don’t you? — 
Well, look here. The distressed lady sinks into a chair and 
buries her face in her pocket handkerchief — ‘ What makes 
you weep, mama? ’ says the child. ' Don’t weep, mama, or 
you’ll make me weep too! ’ — e And me! ’ says the faithful 
servant, rubbing his eyes with his arm. ‘ What can we do to 
raise your spirits, dear mama? ’ says the little child. ‘ Aye, 
what can we do? ’ says the faithful servant. ' Oh, Pierre! ’ 
says the distressed lady; ‘ would that I could shake off these 
painful thoughts.’ — 'Try, ma’am, try,’ says the faithful 
servant; * rouse yourself, ma’am; be amused.’ — 1 1 will,’ says 
the lady, ' I will learn to suffer with fortitude. Do you re- 


202 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


member that dance, my honest friend, which in happier days 
you practised with this sweet angel? It never failed to calm 
my spirits then. Oh! let me see it once again before I die! ’ 
— There it is (cue for the band) before I die — and off they 
go. That’s the regular thing; isn’t it, Tommy? ” 

“ That’s it,” replied Mr. Folair. “ The distressed lady, 
overpowered by old recollections, faints at the end of the 
dance, and you close it with a picture.” 

Profiting by these and other lessons, which were the result 
of the personal experience of the two actors, Nicholas willingly 
gave them the best breakfast he could; and when he at 
length got rid of them, applied himself to his task, pleased 
to find that it was so much easier than he had at first sup¬ 
posed. He worked very hard all day and did not leave his 
room until the evening, when he went down to the theatre, 
whither Smike had repaired, before him to go on with an¬ 
other gentleman as a general rebellion. 

At last, the orchestra left off, and the curtain rose upon 
the new piece. The first scene, in which there was nobody 
particular, passed off calmly enough, but when Nicholas 
came on for his crack scene with Mrs. Crummies, what a 
clapping of hands there was! When Mrs. Crummies (who 
was his unworthy mother) sneered, and called him “ pre¬ 
sumptuous boy,” and he defied her, what a tumult of applause 
came on! When he quarreled with the other gentleman 
about the young lady and, producing a case of pistols, said 
that, if he was a gentleman, he would fight him in that 
drawing-room until the furniture was sprinkled with blood 
of one, if not of two — how boxes, pit, and gallery joined in 
one most vigorous cheer! When he called his mother names, 
because she wouldn’t give up the young lady’s property, and 
she, relenting, caused him to relent likewise and fall down 
on one knee and ask her blessing, how the ladies in the audi¬ 
ence sobbed! When he was hid behind the curtain in the 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


203 


dark and the wicked relation poked a sharp sword in every 
direction, save where his legs were plainly visible, what a 
thrill of anxious fear ran through the house! His air, his 
figure, his walk, his look, everything he said or did, was the 
subject of commendation. There was. a round of applause 
every time he spoke. And when, at last, in the pump-and- 
tub scene, the blue fire was lighted and all the unemployed 
members of the company came in and tumbled down in 
various directions — not because that had anything to do 
with the plot, but in order to finish off with a tableau — the 
audience (who had by this time increased considerably) gave 
vent to such a shout of enthusiasm as had not been heard in 
those walls for many and many a day. 

The new piece, being a decided hit, was announced for every 
evening of the performance until further notice, and the 
evenings when the theatre was closed were reduced from 
three in the week to two. Nor were these the only tokens 
of extraordinary success, for on the succeeding Saturday 
Nicholas received thirty shillings. 

They began making preparations to play Romeo and 
Juliet. Nicholas, having to play Romeo for the first time 
on the ensuing evening, contrived to slip away in the midst 
of a temporary confusion. To this act of desertion he was 
led not only by his own inclinations but by his anxiety on 
account of Smike, who, having to sustain the character of the 
Apothecary, had been as yet wholly unable to get any more 
of the part into his head than the general idea that he was 
very hungry, which — perhaps from old recollections — he 
had acquired with great aptitude. 

“ I don’t know what’s to be done, Smike,” said Nicholas, 
laying down the book. “ I am afraid you can’t learn it, my 
poor fellow.” 

“ I am afraid not,” said Smike, shaking his head. “ I think 
if y 0U — but that would give you so much trouble.” 


204 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“What? Never mind me.” 

“ I think, if you were to keep saying it to me in little bits, 
over and over again, I should be able to recollect it from 
hearing you.” 

“ Do you think so! Well said. Let us see who tires first. 
Not I, Smike, trust me. Now then. 1 Who calls so loud? 1 ” 

“ ‘ Who calls so loud ? ’ ” said Smike. 

“'Who calls so loud?’” repeated Nicholas. 

“ ' Who calls so loud? 1 ” cried Smike. 

Thus they continued to ask each other who called so loud 
over and over again; and when Smike had that by heart, 
Nicholas went to another sentence, and so on, until at mid¬ 
night poor Smike found to his unspeakable joy that he really 
began to remember something about the text. 

Early in the morning they went to it again, and Smike, 
rendered more confident by the progress he had already made, 
got on faster and with better heart. As soon as he began to 
acquire the words pretty freely, Nicholas showed him how low 
he must come in with both hands spread out upon his stomach, 
and how he must occasionally rub it, in compliance with the 
established form by which people on the stage always denote 
that they want something to eat. After the morning’s re¬ 
hearsal they went to work again, nor did they stop, except 
for a hasty dinner, until it was time to go to the theatre at 
night. 

Never had master a more anxious, humble, docile pupil. 
Never had pupil a more patient, unwearying, considerate, 
kind-hearted master. 

As soon as they were dressed, and at every interval when 
he was hot upon the stage, Nicholas renewed his instructions. 
They prospered well. The Romeo was received with hearty 
plaudits and unbounded favour, and Smike was pronounced 
unanimously, alike by audience and actors, the very prince 
and prodigy of Apothecaries. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


205 


CHAPTER XV 

T HE agitation she had undergone rendered Kate Nickleby 
unable to resume her duties at the dressmaker’s for three 
days, at the expiration of which interval she went at the 
accustomed hour with languid steps to the temple of fashion 
where Madame Mantalini reigned paramount and supreme. 

The ill will of Miss Knag had lost nothing of its virulence 
meantime. The young ladies still scrupulously shrank from 
all companionship with their denounced associate; and when 
that exemplary female, Miss Knag, arrived a few minutes 
afterwards, she was at no pains to conceal the displeasure 
with which she regarded Kate’s return. 

“ Upon my word! ” said Miss Knag, as the satellites 
flocked round to relieve her of her bonnet and shawl; “I 
should have thought some people would have had spirit 
enough to stop away altogether, when they know what an 
incumbrance their presence is to right-minded persons. But 
. it’s a queer world; oh! it’s a queer world! ” 

“ Well, Miss Nickleby, child,” said Madame Mantalini, 
when Kate presented herself; “are you quite well again?” 
“ A great deal better, thank you.” 

“ I wish I could say the same.” 

“ Are you ill? I am very sorry for that.” 

“Not exactly ill, but worried, child — worried.” 

“ I am still more sorry to hear that; bodily illness is more 
easy to bear than mental.” 

“Ah! and it’s much easier to talk than to bear either,” 
said madame, rubbing her nose with much irritability of 
manner. “There, get to your work, child, and put the 
things in order, do.” 

While Kate was wondering within herself what these 
symptoms of unusual vexations meant, Mr. Mantalini put 


206 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


the tips of his whiskers, and, by degrees, his head, through 
the half-opened door, and cried in a soft voice — 

“ Is my life and soul there ? ” 

“ No,” replied his wife. 

“ How can it say so, when it is blooming in the front room 
like a little rose in a demnition flower pot. May its Poppet 
come in and talk? ” 

“ Certainly not. You know I never allow you here. Go 
along! ” 

The Poppet, however, encouraged perhaps by the relent¬ 
ing tone of this reply, ventured to rebel and, stealing into 
the room, made towards Madame Mantalini on tiptoes, blow¬ 
ing her a kiss as he came along. 

“ Why will it vex itself and twist its little face into be¬ 
witching nutcrackers? ” said Mantalini, putting his left arm 
round the waist of his life and soul, and drawing her towards 
him with his right. 

“ Oh! I can’t bear you,” said his wife. 

“Not — eh, not bear me! Fibs, fibs. It couldn’t be. 
There’s not a woman alive that could tell me such a thing to « 
my face — to my own face.” Mr. Mantalini stroked his 
chin as he said this and glanced complacently at an opposite 
mirror. 

“ Such destructive extravagance,” resumed his wife, in 
a low tone. 

“ All in its joy at having gained such a lovely creature, 
such a little Venus, such a demd, enchanting, bewitching, en¬ 
grossing, captivating little Venus.” 

“ See what a situation you have placed me in! ” she urged. 

“No harm will come, no harm shall come, to its own darling. 

It is all over; there will be nothing the matter; money shall 
be got in, and if it don’t come in fast enough, old Nickleby 
shall stump up again, or have his jugular separated if he 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


207 


dares to vex and hurt the little-” Mr. Mantalini dis¬ 

posed of all the accusations of his wife with kisses, and they 
went upstairs to breakfast very happily. 

Kate was busy arranging the room when she was startled 
by two officers suddenly entering, who came to collect Mr. 
Mantalini’s bills or take the furniture of the establishment. 
He had spent all the cash of his wife and had then borrowed 
on the furniture. 

Poor Madame Mantalini wrung her hands for grief and 
rang the bell for her husband; which done she fell into a 
chair and a fainting fit. Mr. Mantalini sauntered in, thrust 
his hands down to the bottom of his pockets, whistled a bar 
or two, swore an oath or two and, sitting astride upon a chair, 
asked with great composure, 

“ What’s the demd total? ” 

“ Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pound, four and nine- 
pence ha’ penny,” said one of the officers. 

“ The halfpenny be demd,” said Mr. Mantalini, impa¬ 
tiently. 

“ By all means, if you wish it, and the ninepence too,” 
said the same officer. 

“ It don’t matter to us if the fifteen hundred and twenty- 
seven pound went along with it, that I know on,” observed the 
other officer. 

“ Not a button,” said his companion. “ Wot’s to be done 
— anything? Is it only a small crack, or a out-and-out 
smash? A break-up of the constitution is it — werry good. 
Wot’s the good of the lady afretting herself? ” as Madame 
Mantalini sobbed. “ A good half of wot’s here isn’t paid for, 
I des-say, and wot a consolation oughtn’t that to be to her 
feelings! ” 

With these remarks both officers proceeded to take an 
inventory of everything in the place. 


208 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ My cup of happiness’s sweetener,” said Mantalini, ap¬ 
proaching his wife. 

“ Oh! don’t speak to me! ” replied his wife sobbing. “ You 
have ruined me, and that’s enough! ” 

Mr. Mantalini, who had doubtless well considered his part, 
no sooner heard these words pronounced in a tone of grief 
and severity than he recoiled several paces, assumed an ex¬ 
pression of mental agony, rushed headlong from the room, 
and was soon afterwards heard to slam the door of an up¬ 
stairs dressing room with great violence. 

“ Miss Nickleby,” cried Madame Mantalini, when this 
sound met her ear, “ hurry, for heaven’s sake; he will destroy 
himself! I spoke unkindly to him, and he cannot bear it from 
me. Alfred, my darling Alfred.” 

With such exclamations, she hurried upstairs, followed by 
Kate, who, although she did not quite participate in the 
fond wife’s apprehensions, was a little flurried, neverthe¬ 
less. The dressing-room door being hastily flung open, Mr. 
Mantalini was disclosed to view, with his shirt collar thrown 
back, putting a fine edge to a breakfast knife by means of 
his razor strop. 

“Ah! ” cried Mr. ^Mantalini, “interrupted! ” and whisk 
went the breakfast knife into Mr. Mantalini’s dressing-gown 
pocket, while Mr. Mantalini’s eyes rolled wildly and his hair 
floating in wild disorder, mingled with his whiskers. 

“ Alfred,” cried his wife, flinging her arms about him, “ I 
didn’t mean to say it, I didn’t mean to say it! ” 

“ Ruined! Have I brought ruin upon the best and purest 
creature that ever blest a demnition vagabond! Demmit, 
let me go.” At the crisis of his ravings Mr. Mantalini made 
a pluck at the breakfast knife and, being restrained by 
his wife’s grasp, attempted to dash his head against 
the wall — taking very good care to be at least six feet from it. 

“ Compose yourself, my own angel,” said madame. “ It 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 209 

was nobody’s fault; it was mine as much as yours; we shall 
do very well yet. Come, Alfred, come.” 

Mr. Mantalini did not think proper to come to, all at once; 
but after calling several times for poison and requesting some 
lady or gentleman to blow his brains out, gentler feelings 
came upon him, and he wept pathetically. In this softened 
frame of mind he did not oppose the capture of the knife — 
which, to tell the truth, he was rather glad to be rid of, as 
an inconvenient and dangerous article for a pocket — and 
finally he allowed himself to be led away by his affectionate 
partner. 

After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies were 
informed that their services would be dispensed with until 
further notice, and at the expiration of two days, the name 
of Mantalini appeared in the list of bankrupts. Miss 
Nickleby received an intimation through the post-office on 
the same morning that the business would be, in future, carried 
on under the name of Miss Knag and that her assistance 
would no longer be required. 

“ Well, mama,” said Kate, “ what would you recommend 
now? ” 

“ Recommend! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ Isn’t it obvious, 
my dear that of all occupations in this world for a young 
lady situated as you are that of companion to some amiable 
lady is the very thing for which your education, and manners, 
and personal appearance, and everything else, exactly qualify 
you?” 

The truth then came out. Mrs. Nickleby had that very 
morning seen an advertisement in the newspaper, announcing 
that a married lady was in want of a genteel young person 
as companion. 

“ And I say,” exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby, laying the paper 
down in triumph, “ that if your uncle don’t object, it’s well 
worth the trial.” 


210 


NI.CHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Mr. Ralph Nickleby offered no objections but, on the 
contrary, highly approved of the suggestion; neither did he 
express any great surprise at Mantalini’s sudden failure; 
indeed, it would have been strange if he had, inasmuch as it 
had been procured and brought about chiefly by himself. 
So Miss Nickleby and her mother went off in quest of the 
woman who had advertised for a companion. 

At Mrs. Witterly’s door Kate Nickleby knocked with a 
trembling hand. The door was opened by a big footman 
with his head floured, or chalked, or painted in some way 
(it didn’t look genuine powder). Receiving the card of 
introduction he gave it to a little page, so little, indeed, that 
his body would not hold, in ordinary array, the number of 
small buttons which are indispensable to a page’s costume; 
and they were consequently obliged to be stuck on four 
abreast. This young gentleman took the card upstairs on a 
salver and, pending his return, Kate and her mother were 
shown into a dining room of rather dirty and shabby aspect, 
and so comfortably arranged as to be adapted to almost 
any purpose rather than eating and drinking. 

Mrs. Witterly gave audience in the drawing-room, where 
was everything proper and necessary, including curtains and 
furniture of a roseate hue to shed a delicate bloom on Mrs. 
Witterly’s complexion, and a little dog to snap at stranger’s 
legs for Mrs. Witterly’s amusement, and the page to hand 
chocolate for Mrs. Witterly’s refreshment. The lady had 
a face of sweet insipidity and engaging paleness. There was 
a faded look about her, and about the furniture, and about 
the house. She was reclining on a sofa in such a very un¬ 
studied attitude that she might have been taken for an 
actress all ready for the first scene in a ballet and only wait¬ 
ing for the drop curtain to go up. 

“ Place chairs.” 

The page placed them. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


211 


“ Leave the room, Alphonse.” 

The page left it; but if ever an Alphonse carried plain 
Bill in his face and figure, that page was the boy. 

“ I have ventured to call from having seen your advertise¬ 
ment,” said Kate, after a few seconds of awkward silence. 

“ Yes, one of my people put it in the paper — yes.” 

“ I thought, perhaps, that if you had not already made a 
final choice, you would forgive me for troubling you with an 
application.” 

“ Yes,” drawled Mrs. Witterly again. 

“ If you have,already made a selection-” 

“ 0 dear no, I am not so easily suited. I really don’t know 
what to sav. You have never been a companion before, have 
you?” 

Mrs. Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her oppor¬ 
tunity, answered before Kate could reply, “ Not to any 
stranger, ma’am, but she has been a companion to me for some 
years. I am her mother.” 

“Oh! I apprehend you,” said Mrs. Witterly. 

“ I assure you, ma’am,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “ that I very 
little thought at one time that it would be necessary for my 
daughter to go out into the world at all. Her poor dear 
papa was an independent gentleman and would have been 
at this moment if he had but listened to my constant en¬ 
treaties and-” 

“ Dear mama,” said Kate in a low voice. 

“ My dear Kate, if you will allow me to speak, I shall take 
the liberty of explaining to this lady-” 

“ I think it is almost unnecessary, mama.” 

And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which 
Mrs. Nickleby intimated that she was going to say something 
which would clinch the business at once, Kate maintained 
her point by an expressive look and for once Mrs. Nickleby 
was stopped upon the brink of an oration. 


212 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ What are your accomplishments? ” asked Mrs. Witterly, 
with her eyes shut. 

Kate mentioned her principal acquirements, and Mrs. 
Nickleby checked them all off, one by one, on her fingers, 
having calculated the number before she came in. Luckily 
the two calculations agreed, so Mrs. Nickleby had no excuse 
for talking. 

“You have a good disposition?” asked Mrs. Witterly, 
opening her eyes for an instant, and shutting them again. 

“ I hope so.” 

“ And have a highly respectable reference for everything, 
have you ? ” 

Kate replied that she had, and laid her uncle’s card upon 
the table. 

“ Have the goodness to draw your chair a little nearer, 
and let me look at you; I am so very near-sighted that I 
can’t quite discern your features.” 

Kate complied, though with some embarrassment, and • 
Mrs. Witterly took a languid survey of her countenance, 
which lasted two or three minutes. 

“ I like your countenance,” said the lady, ringing a little 
bell. “ Alphonse, request your master to come here.” 

The page disappeared on this errand, and after a short 
interval, during which not a word was spoken on either side, 
opened the door for an important gentleman of about eight- 
and-thirty, with a very light head of hair, who leaned over 
Mrs. Witterly for a little time and conversed with her in 
whispers. 

“ Oh,” he said, turning round, “ yes. This is a most im¬ 
portant matter. Mrs. Witterly is of a very excitable nature, 
very delicate, very fragile, a hothouse plant, an exotic.” 

“ Oh! Henry, my dear,” interposed Mrs. Witterly. 

“ You are, my love, you know you are; one breath-” 

said Mr. Witterly, blowing an imaginary feather away. 

“ Pho! you’re gone! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


213 


The lady sighed. 

“ Your soul is too large for your body,” said Mr. Witterly. 
“ Your intellect wears you out; all the medical men say so. 
There is not a physician who is not proud of being called in 
to you. What is their unanimous declaration? ‘ My dear 
doctor/ said I to Doctor Snuffim, in this very room, the very 
last time he came. ‘What is my wife’s complaint? Tell 
me all. I can bear it. Is it nerves? ’ ‘ My dear fellow/ he 
said, ‘ be proud of that woman; make much of her. She is 
an ornament to the fashionable world. Her complaint is 
soul. It swells, expands, dilates — the blood fires, the pulse 
quickens, the excitement increases ’ — Whew! ” Here Mr. 
Witterly, who had flourished his right hand to within some¬ 
thing less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby’s bonnet, drew it 
hastily back again, and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had 
been done by some violent machinery. 

It was finally arranged that a decisive answer should be 
sent to Miss Nickleby within two days. The page then 
showed them down as far as the staircase window, and the 
big footman, relieving guard at that point, piloted them in 
perfect safety to the street door. 

“ They are very distinguished people, evidently,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby, as she took her daughter’s arm. 

“ Do you think so, mama ? ” was all Kate’s reply. 

The answer — not to Kate’s great joy — was favourable; 
and at the expiration of a week she went, with all her movables 
and valuables, to Mrs. Witterly’s mansion. 


CHAPTER XVI 


T HE place was a handsome suite of private apartments 
in Regent street: the time was three o’clock in the 
afternoon: the persons were Lord Frederick Verisopht, and 
his friend Sir Mulberry Hawk. A couple of billiard balls 


214 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


all mud and dirt, two battered hats, a champagne bottle with 
a soiled glove twisted round the neck, a broken cane, a card 
case without the top, an empty purse, a watch guard snapped 
asunder, a handful of silver, mingled with fragments of half- 
smoked cigars, and their stale and crumbled ashes — these 
and many other tokens of riot and disorder hinted at the 
nature of last night’s gentlemanly frolics. 

Lord Frederick Verisopht was the first to speak. Drop¬ 
ping his slippered feet on the ground and yawning heavily, 
he struggled into a sitting posture and turned his dull languid 
eyes towards his friend, to whom he called in a drowsy voice. 

“ Hallo! ” replied Sir Mulberry, turning round. 

“Are we going to lie here all da-a-y? ’’ said the lord. 

“ I don’t know that we’re fit for anything else yet awhile, 
at least. I haven’t a grain of life in me this morning.” 

“ Life! I feel as if there would be nothing so snug and 
comfortable as to die at once.” 

“ Then why don’t you die ? ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk. 

With which inquiry he turned his face away and seemed 
to occupy himself in an attempt to fall asleep. 

His hopeful friend and pupil drew a chair to the break¬ 
fast table and tried to eat but, finding that impossible, lounged 
to the window, then loitered up and down the room with his 
hand to his fevered head, and finally threw himself again on 
his sofa, and roused his friend once more. 

“ What the devil’s the matter ? ” groaned Sir Mulberry, 
sitting upright on the couch. 

Although Sir Mulberry said this with ill humour, he did 
not seem to feel himself quite at liberty to remain silent; for 
after stretching himself very often, and declaring with a 
shiver that it was “ infernal cold,” he made an experiment 
at the breakfast table, and proving more successful than his 
less-seasoned friend, remained there. 

“ Suppose,” said Sir Mulberry, pausing with a morsel on 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 215 

the point of his fork, “ suppose we go back to the subject 
of little Nickleby, eh ? ” 

“ Which little Nickleby; the money lender or the ga-a-1? ” 

“ You take me, I see. The girl, of course.” 

“ You promised me you’d find her out,” said Lord Fred¬ 
erick. 

“ So I did, but I have thought further of the matter since 
then. You distrust me in the business — you shall find her 
out yourself.” 

“ Na-ay.” 

“ But I say yes; you shall find her out yourself. Don’t 
think that I mean, when you can — I know as well as you 
that, if I did, you could never get sight of her without me. 
No. I say you shall find her out — shall — and I’ll put you 
in the way.” 

“ Now, curse me, if you ain’t a real, deyvlish, downright 
friend.” 

“ I’ll tell you how. She was at that dinner as a bait for 
you,” said Sir Mulberry. 

“No! What the dey-” 

“ As a bait for ypu; old Nickleby told me so himself.” 

“ What a fine old cock it is! A noble rascal! ” said Lord 
Frederick. 

“ Yes, he knew she was a smart little creature-” 

“Smart! Upon my soul, Hawk, she’s a perfect beauty 
_ a — picture, a statue, a — a — upon my soul she is! ” 

“ Well,” replied Sir Mulberry, shrugging his shoulders and 
manifesting an indifference, whether he felt it or not; “ that s 
a matter of taste; if mine doesn’t agree with yours, so much 
the better.” 

“ Confound it! You were thick enough with her that day, 
anyhow. I could hardly get in a word. 

“Well enough for once, well enough for once, but not 
worth the trouble of being agreeable to again. If you seri- 


216 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


ously want to follow up the niece, tell the uncle that you 
must know where she lives and how she lives, and with whom, 
or you are no longer a customer of his. He’ll tell you fast 
enough.” 

“Why didn’t you say this before?” 

“ I didn’t know it, in the first place,” answered Sir Mul¬ 
berry carelessly; “ and in the second, I didn’t believe you 
were so very much in earnest.” 

(Now, the truth was that, in the interval which had 
elapsed since the dinner at Ralph Nickleby’s, Sir Mulberry 
Hawk had been trying by every means in his power to dis¬ 
cover where Kate had disappeared.) 

Thus reasoned Sir Mulberry, and in pursuance of this 
reasoning he and his friend soon afterward repaired to Ralph 
Nickleby’s, there to execute a plan of operations made by 
Sir Mulberry himself, avowedly to promote his friend’s 
object, but really to attain his own. 

They found Ralph at home, and alone. As he led them 
into the drawing-room, the recollection of the scene which 
had taken place there seemed to occur to him, for he cast a 
curious look at Sir Mulberry, who bestowed upon him no 
other acknowledgment than a careless smile. 

They had a short conference upon some money matters 
then in progress, which were scarcely disposed of when the 
lordly dupe (in pursuance of his friend’s instructions) re¬ 
quested with some embarrassment to speak to Ralph alone. 

“ Alone, eh? ” cried Sir Mulberry, affecting surprise. “ Oh, 
very good. I’ll walk into the next room here. Don’t keep 
me long, that’s all.” 

So saying, Sir Mulberry took up his hat, and humming a 
fragment of a song disappeared through the door of com¬ 
munication between the two drawing-rooms and closed it 
after him. 

“ Now, my lord,” said Ralph, “ what is it? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


217 


“ Nickleby,” said his client, throwing himself along the 
sofa on which he had been previously seated, so as to bring 
his lips nearer to the old man’s ear, “ what a pretty girl your 
niece is! ” 

“Is she, my lord? Maybe — maybe. I don’t trouble 
my head with such matters.” 

“ You know she’s a deyv’lish fine girl. You must know 
that, Nickleby. Come, don’t deny that.” 

“ Yes, I believe she is considered so. Indeed, I know she 
is. If I did not, you are an authority on such points, and 
your taste, my lord — on all points, indeed — is unde¬ 
niable.” 

Nobody but the young man to whom these words were 
addressed could have been deaf to the sneering tone in which 
they were spoken, or blind to the look of contempt by which 
they were accompanied. But Lord Frederick Verisopht was 
both and took them to be complimentary. 

“ Well, p’raps you’re a little right, and p’raps you’re a 
little wrong — a little of both, Nickleby. I want to know 
where this beauty lives that I may have another peep at her, 
Nickleby.” 

“ Really-” 

“ Don’t talk so loud,” cried the other, achieving the great 
point of his lesson to a miracle. “ I don’t want Hawk to 
hear.” 

“ You know he is your rival, do you? ” 

“ He always is, and I want to steal a march upon him. 
Ha, ha, ha! He’ll cut up so rough, Nickleby, at our talking 
together without him. Where does she live, Nickleby, that’s 
all? Only tell me where she lives, Nickleby.” 

“ He bites,” thought Ralph. “ He bites.” 

“ Eh, Nickleby, eh ? Where does she live ? ” 

“ Really, my lord,” said Ralph, rubbing his hands slowly 
pver each other, “ I must think before I tell you.” 


218 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ No, not a bit of it, Nickleby; you mustn’t think at all. 
Where is it? ” 

“ No good can come of your knowing; she has been virtu¬ 
ously and well brought up; to be sure she is handsome, poor, 
unprotected! Poor girl, poor girl.” 

Ralph ran over this brief summary of Kate’s condition as 
if it were merely passing through his own mind and he had 
no intention to speak aloud; but the shrewd, sly look which 
he directed at his companion as he delivered it gave this 
poor assumption the lie. 

“ I tell you I only want to see her. A ma-an may look at 
a pretty woman without harm, mayn’t he? Now, where 
does she live? You know you’re making a fortune out of me, 
Nickleby, and upon my soul nobody shall ever take me to 
anybody else, if you only tell me this.” 

“ As you promise that, my lord, and as I am most anxious 
to oblige you, and as there’s no harm in it — no harm — I’ll 
tell you. But you had better keep it to yourself, my lord; 
strictly to yourself.” Ralph pointed to the adjoining room 
as he spoke, and nodded expressively. 

The young lord, feigning to be equally impressed with the 
necessity of this precaution, Ralph disclosed the present 
address and occupation of his niece, observing that from 
what he heard of the family they appeared very ambitious 
to have distinguished acquaintances and that a lord could, 
doubtless, introduce himself with great ease, if he felt 
disposed. 

“ Your object being only to see her again,” said Ralph, 
“ you could effect it at any time you chose by that 
means.” 

Lord Frederick acknowledged the hint with a great many 
squeezes of Ralph’s hard, horny hand and, whispering that 
they would now do well to close the conversation, called to 
Sir Mulberry Hawk that he might come back. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 219 

“ I thought you had gone to sleep,” said Sir Mulberry, 
reappearing with an ill-tempered air. 

“ Sorry to detain you, but Nickleby has been so ama-azingly 
funny that I couldn’t tear myself away.” 

“No, no,” said Ralph; “it was all his lordship. You 
know what a witty, humorous, elegant, accomplished man 
Lord Frederick is. Mind the step, my lord — Sir Mulberry, 
pray give way.” 

With such courtesies as these, and many low bows and the 
same cold sneer upon his face all the while, Ralph busied 
himself in showing his visitors downstairs. 

There had been a ring at the bell a few moments before, 
which was answered by Newman Noggs just as they reached 
the hall. In the ordinary course of business Newman would 
have either admitted the newcomer in silence, or have re¬ 
quested him or her to stand aside while the gentleman passed 
out. But he no sooner saw who it was than he cried in a 
loud and sonorous voice: “Mrs. Nickleby! ” 

“ Mrs. Nickleby! ” cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, as his friend 
looked back, and stared him in the face. 

It was, indeed, that well-intentioned lady, who, having 
received an offer for the empty house in the city directed to 
the landlord, had brought it post-haste to Mr. Nickleby with¬ 
out delay. 

“ Nobody you know,” said Ralph. “ Step into the office, 
my — my — dear. I’ll be with you directly.” 

“ Nobody I know! ” cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, advancing 
to the astonished lady. “Is this Mrs. Nickleby —the 
mother of Miss Nickleby — the delightful girl that I had the 
happiness of meeting in this house the very last time I 
dined here! But no; ” said Sir Mulberry, stopping short. 

“ No, it can’t be. There is the same cast of features, the 
same indescribable air of — but no, no. This lady is too 
young for that.” 


220 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I think you can tell the gentleman, brother-in-law, if it 
concerns him to know,” said Mrs. Nickleby, acknowledging 
the compliment with a graceful bend, “ that Kate Nickleby 
is my daughter.” 

“ Her daughter, my lord! ” cried Sir Mulberry, turning 
to his friend. “ This lady’s daughter, my lord.” 

“ My lord!” thought Mrs. Nickleby. “Well, I never 

did-! ” 

“ This, then, my lord,” said Sir Mulberry, “ is the lady 
to whose obliging marriage we owe so much happiness. 
This lady is the mother of sweet Miss Nickleby. Do you 
observe the extraordinary likeness, my lord? Nickleby — 
introduce us.” 

Ralph did so, in a kind of desperation. 

“ Upon my soul, it’s a most delightful thing,” said Lord 
Frederick, pressing forward: “How de do?” 

Mrs. Nickleby was too much flurried by these uncom¬ 
monly kind salutations, and her regrets at not having on her 
other bonnet, to make any immediate reply, so she merely 
continued to bend and smile, and betray great agitation. 

“ A-and how is Miss Nickleby ? ” said Lord Frederick. 
“ Well, I hope? ” 

“ She is quite well, I’m obliged to you, my lord,” returned 
Mrs. Nickleby, recovering. “ Quite well. She wasn’t well 
for some days after that day she dined here, and I can’t help 
thinking that she caught cold in that hackney coach coming 
home. Hackney coaches, my lord, are such nasty things, 
that it’s almost better to walk at any time; for although I 
believe a hackney coachman can be transported 1 for life if he 
has a broken window, still they are so reckless that they nearly 
all have broken windows. I once had a swelled face for six 
weeks, my lord, from riding in a hackney coach — I think 

1 Transportation or banishment to a colony was a punishment in¬ 
flicted by the English until 1808. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


221 


it was a hackney coach,” said Mrs. Nickleby, reflecting, 
“though I’m not quite certain whether it wasn’t a chariot; 
at all events, I know it was dark green, with a very long 
number, beginning with a nought and ending with a nine — 
no, beginning with a nine and ending with a nought — that 
was it.” 

Having pretty well run herself out by this time, Mrs. 
Nickleby stopped as suddenly as she had started off and re¬ 
peated that Kate was quite well. “ Indeed, I don’t think 
she ever was better, since she had the whooping cough, scarlet 
fever, and measles, all at the same time, and that’s the fact.” 

“ Is that letter for me ? ” growled Ralph, pointing to the 
little packet Mrs. Nickleby held in her hand. 

“ For you, brother-in-law, and I walked all the way up 
here on purpose to give it you.” 

“ All the way up here! ” cried Sir Mulberry, seizing upon 
the chance of discovering where Mrs. Nickleby had come 
from. “What a confounded distance! How far do you 
call it now ? ” 

“ How far do I call it! Let me see. It’s just a mile 
from our door to the Old Bailey.” 

“ No, no. Not so much as that,” urged Sir Mulberry. 

“Oh! It is indeed, I appeal to his lordship,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

“ I should decidedly say it was a mile,” remarked Lord 
Frederick, with a solemn aspect. 

“ It must be; it can’t be a yard less,” said Mrs. Nickleby. 
“All down Newgate Street, all down Cheapside, all up 
Lombard Street, down Gracechurch Street, and along Thames 
Street, as far as Spigwiffin’s Wharf. Oh! It’s a mile.” 

“Yes, on second thoughts I should say it was,” replied 
Sir Mulberry. “ But you don’t surely mean to walk all 
the way back ? ” 

“ Oh, no, I shall go back in an omnibus. I didn’t travel 


222 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


about in omnibuses, when my poor dear husband was alive, 
brother-in-law. But as it is, you know-” 

“ Yes, yes,” replied Ralph impatiently, “ and you had 
better get back before dark.” 

“ Thank you, brother-in-law, so I had. I think I had 
better say good bye, at once.” 

“Not stop and — rest?” said Ralph, who seldom offered 
refreshments unless something was to be got by it. 

“ Oh dear me, no,” returned Mrs. Nickleby, glancing at 
the dial. 

“ Lord Frederick,” said Sir Mulberry, “ we are going Mrs. 
Nickleby’s way. We’ll see her safe to the omnibus?” 

“ By all means. Ye-es.” 

“ Oh! I really couldn’t think of it! ” said Mrs. Nickleby. 

But Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick were per¬ 
emptory in their politeness, and leaving Ralph, who seemed 
to think that he looked less ridiculous as a mere spectator 
than he would have done if he had taken any part in these 
proceedings, they quitted the house with Mrs. Nickleby be¬ 
tween them. That good lady was in a perfect ecstasy of 
satisfaction with the attentions shown her by two titled 
gentlemen and with the conviction that Kate might now pick 
and choose at least between two large fortunes and most 
unexceptionable husbands. 

As she was carried away for the moment by an irresistible 
train of thought all connected with her daughter’s future 
greatness, Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend exchanged 
glances over the top of the bonnet which the poor lady so 
much regretted not having left at home and proceeded to 
dilate with great rapture, but much respect, on the many 
perfections of Miss Nickleby. 

“ What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this 
amiable girl must be to you,” said Sir Mulberry, throwing 
into his voice an indication of the warmest feeling. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 223 

“ She is indeed, sir, she is the sweetest-tempered, kindest- 
hearted daughter — and so clever! ” 

“ She looks clayver,” said Lord Frederick Verisopht, with 
the air of a judge of cleverness. 

“ I assure you she is, my lord,” returned Mrs. Nickleby. 

Meanwhile, Ralph walked to and fro in his little back office, 
troubled in mind by what had just occurred. 

“ I wish I had never done this, and yet it will keep this 
boy to me while there is money to be made. Selling a girl 
— throwing her in the way of temptation, and insult, and 
coarse speech. Nearly two thousand pounds profit from 
him already, though. Pshaw! match-making mothers do 
the same thing every day.” 

He sat down and told the chances, for and against, on his 
fingers. 

“ If I had not put them in the right track today, this 
foolish woman would have done so. Well, if her daughter 
is as true to herself as she should be from what I have seen, 
what harm ensues? A little teazing, a little humbling, a 
few tears. Yes,” said Ralph, aloud, as he locked his iron 
safe. “ She must take her chance. She must take her 
chance.” 

Mrs. Nickleby had not felt so proud and important for 
many a day as when, on reaching home, she gave herself 
wholly up to the pleasant visions which had accompanied her 
on her way thither. Lady Mulberry Hawk — that was the 
prevalent idea. Lady Mulberry Hawk — On Tuesday last, at 
St. George’s Hanover Square, by the Right Reverend the 
Bishop of Llandaff, Sir Mulberry Hawk, of Mulberry Castle, 
North Wales, to Catherine, only daughter of the late Nicholas 
Nickleby, Esquire, of Devonshire. {< Upon my word! ” cried 
Mrs. Nickleby, “ it sounds very well.” 

She was preparing her frugal dinner next day, still occu¬ 
pied with the same ideas — a little softened down perhaps 


224 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


by sleep and daylight — when the girl who attended her 
rushed into the room and announced that two gentlemen 
were waiting in the passage for permission to walk up¬ 
stairs. 

“ Bless my heart! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, hastily arrang¬ 
ing her cap and dress, “ if it should be — dear me, standing 
in the passage all this time — why don’t you go and ask 
them to walk up, you stupid thing ? ” 

While the girl was gone on this errand, Mrs. Nickleby 
hastily swept into a cupboard all vestiges of eating and drink¬ 
ing, which she had scarcely done, and seated herself with 
looks as collected as she could assume, when two gentlemen, 
both perfect strangers, presented themselves. 

“ How do you do? ” said one gentleman, laying great stress 
on the last word of inquiry. 

“ How do you do ? ” said the other gentleman, altering the 
emphasis, as if to give variety to the salutation. 

Mrs. Nickleby curtseyed and smiled, and curtseyed again, 
and remarked, rubbing her hands as she did so, that she 
hadn’t the — really — the honour to — 

“ To know us,” said the first gentleman. “ The loss has 
been ours, Mrs. Nickleby. Has the loss been ours, Pyke? ” 

“ It has, Pluck.” 

“ We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pyke ? ” said 
the first gentleman. 

“ Very often, Pluck.” 

“ But now,” said the first gentleman, “ now we have the 
happiness we have pined and languished for. Have we 
pined and languished for this happiness, Pyke, or have we 
not?” 

“You know we have, Pluck.” 

“ You hear him, ma’am? ” said Mr. Pluck, looking round; 
“ you hear the unimpeachable testimony of my friend Pyke 
— that reminds me — formalities, formalities, must not be 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 225 

neglected in civilized society. Pyke — Mrs. Nickleby.” 

Mr. Pyke laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed low. 

“ Whether I shall introduce myself with the same for¬ 
mality ,” said Mr. Pluck — “Whether I shall say myself 
that my name is Pluck, or whether I shall ask my friend 
Pyke (who, being now regularly introduced, is competent to 
the office) to state for me, Mrs. Nickleby, that my name is 
Pluck; whether I shall claim your acquaintance on the plain 
ground of the strong interest I take in your welfare, or 
whether I shall make myself known to you as the friend of 
Sir Mulberry Hawk — these, Mrs. Nickleby, are considera¬ 
tions which I leave to you to determine.” 

“Any friend of Sir Mulberry Hawk’s requires no better 
introduction to me,” observed Mrs. Nickleby, graciously. 

“ It is delightful to hear you say so,” said Mr. Pluck, 
drawing a chair close to Mrs. Nickleby, and seating himself. 
“ It is refreshing to know that you hold my excellent friend, 
Sir Mulberry, in such high esteem. A word in your ear, 
Mrs. Nickleby. When Sir Mulberry knows it, he will be a 
happy man — I say, Mrs. Nickleby, a happy man. Pyke, 
be seated.” 

“ My good opinion,” said Mrs. Nickleby, and the poor 
lady exulted in the idea that she was marvellously sly, “ my 
good opinion can be of very little consequence to a gentleman 
like Sir Mulberry.” 

“Of little consequence! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck. “Pyke, 
of what consequence to our friend, Sir Mulberry, is the good 
opinion of Mrs. Nickleby?” 

“ Of what consequence? ” echoed Pyke. 

“ Aye, is it of the greatest consequence? ” repeated Pluck. 

“ Of the very greatest consequence,” replied Pyke. 

“ Mrs. Nickleby cannot be ignorant,” said Mr. Pluck, “ of 
the immense impression which that sweet girl has-” 

“ Pluck! beware! ” 


226 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Pyke is right,” muttered Mr. Pluck, after a short pause; 
“ I was not to mention it. Pyke is very right. Thank you, 
Pyke.” 

“ Well now, really! ” thought Mrs. Nickleby within her¬ 
self. “ Such delicacy as that I never saw! ” 

Mr. Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great 
embarrassment for some minutes, resumed the conversation 
by entreating Mrs. Nickleby to take no heed of what he had 
said — to consider him imprudent, rash, injudicious. The 
only stipulation he would make in his own favour was that 
she should give him credit for the best intentions. 

“ But when,” said Mr. Pluck, “ when I see so much sweet¬ 
ness and beauty on the one hand, and so much ardour 
and devotion on the other, I —pardon me, Pyke, I didn’t 
intend to resume that theme. Change the subject, 
Pyke.” 

“ We promised Sir Mulberry and Lord Frederick,” said 
Pyke, “that we’d call this morning and inquire whether 
you took any cold last night.” 

“ Not the least in the world, sir, with many thanks to 
his lordship and Sir Mulberry for doing me the honour to 
inquire; not the least — which is the more singular, as I 
really am very subject to colds, indeed — very subject. I 
had a cold once — I think it was in the year eighteen hundred 
and seventeen — let me see, four and five are nine, and — 
yes, eighteen hundred and seventeen, that I thought I never 
should get rid of — actually and seriously that I thought I 
never should get rid of. I was only cured at last by a remedy 
that I don’t know whether you ever happened to hear of, Mr. 
Pluck. You have a gallon of water as hot as you can possibly 
bear it, with a pound of salt and sixpen’wr’th of the finest 
bran, and sit with your head in it for twenty minutes every 
night just before going to bed; at least, I don’t mean your 
head — your feet. It’s a most extraordinary cure — a most 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


227 


extraordinary cure. I used it for the first time, I recollect, 
the day after Christmas Day, and by the middle of April 
following the cold was gone. It seems quite a miracle when 
you come to think of it, for I had had it ever since the be¬ 
ginning of September.” 

“What an afflicting calamity! ” said Mr. Pyke. 

“ Perfectly horrid! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck. 

“ But it’s worth the pain of hearing, only to know that 
Mrs. Nickleby recovered from it, isn’t it, Pluck? ” cried Mr. 
Pyke. 

“ That is the circumstance which gives it such a thrilling 
interest,” replied Mr. Pyke. 

“ But come,” said Pyke, as if suddenly recollecting him¬ 
self; “ we must not forget our mission in the pleasure of this 
interview. We come on a mission, Mrs. Nickleby.” 

“ On a mission,” exclaimed that good lady, to whose mind 
a definite proposal of marriage for Kate at once presented 
itself in lively colours. 

“ From Sir Mulberry,” replied Pyke. “ You must be very 
dull here.” 

“ Rather dull, I confess,” said Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a 
thousand entreaties that you’ll take a seat in a private box 
at the play tonight,” said Mr. Pluck. 

“ Oh dear! I never go out at all, never.” 

“And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs. Nickleby, 
why you should go out tonight,” retorted Mr. Pluck. “ Pyke, 
entreat Mrs. Nickleby.” 

“ Oh, please decide to go! ” said Pyke. 

“ You positively must,” urged Pluck. 

“You are very kind,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “but-” 

“ There’s not a but in the case, my dear Mrs. Nickleby,” 
remonstrated Mr. Pluck; “ not such a word in the vocabulary. 
Your brother-in-law joins us, Lord Frederick joins us, Sir 


228 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Mulberry joins us— a refusal is out of the question. Sir 
Mulberry sends a carriage for you — twenty minutes before 
seven to the moment — you’ll not be so cruel as to disappoint 
the whole party, Mrs. Nickleby ? ” 

“You are so very pressing that I scarcely know what to 
say,” replied the worthy lady. 

“ Say nothing; not a word, not a word, my dearest madam,” 
urged Mr. Pluck. “Mrs. Nickleby,” said that excellent 
gentleman, lowering his voice, “ there is the most trifling, the 
most excusable breach of confidence in what I am about to 
say; and yet if my friend Pyke there overheard it — such 
is that man’s delicate sense of honour, Mrs. Nickleby,— 
he’d have me out before dinner time, in a duel.” 

Mrs. Nickleby cast an apprehensive glance at the war¬ 
like Pyke, who had walked to the window; and Mr. Pluck, 
squeezing her hand, went on: 

“Your daughter has made a conquest — a conquest on 
which I may congratulate you. Sir Mulberry, my dear 
ma’am, Sir Mulberry is her devoted slave. Hem! ” 

“ Hah! ” cried Mr. Pyke, at this juncture snatching some¬ 
thing from the chimneypiece with a theatrical air. “ What 
is this! what do I behold! ” 

“ What do you behold, my dear fellow? ” asked Mr. Pluck. 

“ It is the face, the countenance, the expression,” cried 
Mr. Pyke, falling into his chair with a miniature in his 
hand; “ feebly portrayed, imperfectly caught, but still the 
face, the countenance, the expression.” 

“ I recognise it at this distance! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck, 
in a fit of enthusiasm. “ Is it not, my dear madam, the faint 
similitude of-” 

“ It is my daughter’s portrait,” said Mrs. Nickleby, with 
great pride. And so it was. And little Miss La Creevy 
had brought it home for inspection only two nights before. 

Mr. Pyke no sooner ascertained that he was quite right 


229 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

in his conjecture than he launched into the most extravagant 
praises of the divine original and in the warmth of his en¬ 
thusiasm kissed the picture a thousand times, while Mr. 
Pluck pressed Mrs. Nickleby’s hand to his heart and con¬ 
gratulated her on the possession of such a daughter, with so 
much earnestness and affection that the tears stood, or 
seemed to stand, in his eyes. Poor Mrs. Nickleby, who had 
listened in a state of enviable complacency at first, became 
at length quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for 
the family. Even the servant girl, who had peeped in at 
the door, remained rooted to the spot in astonishment at 
the ecstasies of the two friendly visitors. 

By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs. Nickleby 
went on to entertain her guests with a lament over her fallen 
fortunes and a picturesque account of her old house in the 
country, comprising a full description of the different apart¬ 
ments, not forgetting the little storeroom, and a lively recol¬ 
lection of how many steps you went down to get into the 
garden, and which way you turned when you came out at 
the parlour door, and what capital fixtures there were in the 
kitchen. This last reflection naturally conducted her into 
the wash-house, where she stumbled upon the brewing utensils, 
among which she might have wandered for an hour, if the 
mere mention of those implements had not, by an association 
of ideas, instantly reminded Mr. Pyke that he was “ amazing 
thirsty.” 

“ And I’ll tell you what,” said Mr. Pyke; “if you’ll send 
round to the public house for a pot of mild half-and-half, 
positively and actually I’ll drink it. 

And positively and actually Mr. Pyke did drink it, and 
Mr. Pluck helped him. 

“ At twenty minutes before seven, then,” said Mr. Pyke, 
rising, “ the coach will be here. One more look one little 
look —at that sweet face. Ah! here it is. Unmoved, un- 


230 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


changed! ” This by the way was a very remarkable cir¬ 
cumstance, miniatures being liable to so many changes of 
expression. “Oh, Pluck! Pluck!” 

Mr. Pluck made no other reply than kissing Mrs. Nickleby’s 
hand with a great show of feeling and attachment; Mr. 
Pyke having done the same, both gentlemen hastily withdrew. 

Mrs. Nickleby had never felt so satisfied with her own 
sharp-sightedness as she did that day. She had found it 
all out the night before. She had never seen Sir Mulberry 
and Kate together — never even heard Sir Mulberry’s name 
— and yet hadn’t she said to herself from the very first that 
she saw how the case stood ? And what a triumph it was, for 
there was now no doubt about it. If these flattering atten¬ 
tions to herself were not sufficient proofs, Sir Mulberry’s 
confidential friend had let the secret escape in so many 
words. “ I am quite in love with that dear Mr. Pluck, I 
declare I am,” she concluded to herself. 

Punctual to its time that evening came the promised vehicle, 
which was no hackney coach but a private chariot, having 
behind it a footman, whose legs, although somewhat large 
for his body, might, as mere abstract legs, have set them¬ 
selves up for models at the Royal Academy. It was quite 
exhilarating to hear the clash and bustle with which he 
banged the door and jumped up behind, after Mrs. Nickleby 
was in. 

At the theatre entrance there was more banging and more 
bustle, and there were also Messrs. Pyke and Pluck waiting 
to escort her to her box. 

Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely been put away behind the 
curtain of the box in an armchair, when Sir Mulberry and 
Lord Frederick Yerisopht arrived, arrayed from the crowns 
of their heads to the tips of their gloves in the most elegant 
and costly manner. Sir Mulberry was a little hoarser than 
on the previous day, and Lord Frederick looked rather sleepy 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


231 


and queer, from which tokens, as well as from the circum¬ 
stance of their both being to a trifling extent unsteady on 
their legs, Mrs. Nickleby concluded that they had taken 
dinner. 

“ We have been — we have been — toasting your lovely 
daughter, Mrs. Nickleby,” whispered Sir Mulberry, sitting 
down behind her. 

“ You are very kind, Sir Mulberry.” 

“ No, no, upon my soul! It’s you that’s kind, upon my 
soul it is. It was so kind of you to come tonight.” 

“ So very kind of you to invite me, you meafti, Sir Mul¬ 
berry,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head and looking 
prodigiously sly. 

“ I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate 
your good opinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious 
kind of harmonious family understanding between us that 
you mustn’t think I’m disinterested in what I do. I’m in¬ 
fernal selfish; I am — upon my soul I am.” 

“ I am sure you can’t be selfish, Sir Mulberry; you have 
much too open and generous a countenance for that.” 

“ What an extraordinary observer you are! ” said Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk. 

“ Oh no, indeed, I don’t see very far into things, Sir Mul¬ 
berry,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left 
the baronet to infer that she saw very far indeed. 

“ I am quite afraid of you,” said the baronet. “ Upon my 
soul,” repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his com¬ 
panions; “I am afraid of Mrs. Nickleby. She is so im¬ 
mensely sharp.” 

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously 
and observed together that they had found that out long 
ago, upon which Mrs. Nickleby laughed delightedly, and 
Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pyke and Pluck roared. 

“ But where’s my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry? I 


232 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

shouldn’t be here without him. I hope he’s coming.” 

“ Pyke,” said Sir Mulberry, taking out his toothpick and 
lolling back in his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a 
reply to this question. “ Where is Ralph Nickleby ? ” 

“ Pluck,” said Pyke, imitating the baronet’s action and 
turning the lie over to his friend, “ where’s Ralph Nickle¬ 
by? ” 

Mr. Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when 
the bustle caused by a party entering the next box seemed to 
attract the attention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged 
glances of much meaning. The new party beginning to con¬ 
verse together, Sir Mulberry suddenly assumed the character 
of a most attentive listener, and implored his friends not to 
breathe — not to breathe. 

“ Why not ? ” said Mrs. Nickleby. “ What is the matter ? ” 

“ Hush! ” replied Sir Mulberry, laying his hand on her arm. 
“ Lord Frederick, do you recognize the tones of that voice? ” 

“ Deyvle take me if I didn’t think it was the voice of Miss 
Nickleby.” 

“ Lor, my lord! ” cried Miss Nickleby’s mama, thrusting her 
head round the curtain. “ Why actually — Kate, my dear, 
Kate.” 

“You here, mama! Is it possible! ” 

“Possible, my dear? Yes.” 

“ Why, who — who on earth is that you have with you, 
Mama ? ” said Kate, shrinking back as she caught sight of 
a man smiling and kissing his hand. 

“ Who do you suppose, my dear? ” replied Mrs. Nickleby, 
bending towards Mrs. Witterly, and speaking a little louder 
for that lady’s edification. 

“ There’s Mr. Pyke, Mr. Pluck, Sir Mulberry Hawk, and 
Lord Frederick Verisopht.” 

“ Gracious Heaven! ” thought Kate, hurriedly. “ How 
comes she in such society! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


233 


r Now Kate thought thus so hurriedly, and the surprise was 
so great and brought back so forcibly the recollection of what 
had passed at Ralph’s delectable dinner that she turned 
extremely pale and appeared greatly agitated, which symp¬ 
toms being observed by Mrs. Nickleby, were at once set 
down by that acute lady as being caused by violent love. 
But although she was delighted by this discovery, it did not 
lessen her motherly anxiety in Kate’s behalf. Accordingly, 
she left her own box to hasten into the next one. Mrs. 
Witterly, keenly alive to the glory of having a lord and a 
baronet among her visiting acquaintances, lost no time in 
signing to Mr. Witterly to open the door, and thus it was 
that in less than thirty seconds Mrs. Nickleby’s party had 
made an irruption into Mrs. Witterly’s box, which it filled 
to the very door. 

“ My dear Kate,” said Mrs. Nickleby, kissing her daughter 
affectionately, “ how ill you looked a moment ago! You quite 
frightened me, I declare! ” 

“ It was a mere fancy, mama — the — the — reflection of 
the lights perhaps,” replied Kate, glancing nervously round, 
and finding it impossible to whisper any caution or explana¬ 
tion. 

“ Don’t you see Sir Mulberry Hawk, my dear? ” 

Kate bowed slightly and, biting her lip, turned her head 
towards the stage. 

But Sir Mulberry Hawk was not to be so easily repulsed, 
for he advanced with extended hand; and Mrs. Nickleby 
officiously informing Kate of this circumstance, she was 
obliged to extend her own. Sir Mulberry detained it while 
he murmured a profusion of compliments, which Kate, re¬ 
membering what had passed between them, rightly con¬ 
sidered as so many aggravations of the insult he had already 
put upon her. Then followed the recognition of Lord 
Frederick Verisopht, and then the greeting of Mr. Pyke, 


234 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


and then that of Mr. Pluck, and finally, to complete the 
young lady’s mortification, she was compelled, at Mrs. 
Witterly’s request, to perform the ceremony of introducing 
the odious persons, whom she regarded with the utmost in¬ 
dignation and abhorrence. 

“ Mrs. Witterly is delighted,” said Mr. Witterly, rubbing 
his hands; “ delighted, my lord, I am sure, with this oppor¬ 
tunity of contracting an acquaintance which, I trust, my 
lord, we shall improve. Julia, my dear, you must not allow 
yourself to be too much excited, you must not. Indeed you 
must not. Mrs. Witterly is of a most excitable nature, Sir 
Mulberry; the snuff of a candle, the wick of a lamp, the 
bloom on a peach, the down on a butterfly. You might blow 
her away, my lord; you might blow her away.” 

Sir Mulberry seemed to think that it would be a great 
convenience if the lady could be blown away. He said, 
however, that the delight was mutual, and Lord Frederick 
added that it was mutual, whereupon Messrs. Pyke and 
Pluck were heard to murmur from the distance that it was 
very mutual indeed. 

“ I take an interest, my lord,” said Mrs. Witterly, with a 
faint smile, “ such an interest in the drama.” 

“ Ye-es. It’s very interesting,” replied Lord Frederick. 

“ I’m always ill after Shakespeare,” said Mrs. Witterly. 
“ I scarcely exist the next day; I find the reaction so very great 
after a tragedy, my lord, and Shakespeare is such a delicious 
creature.” 

“Ye-es!” replied Lord Frederick. “He was a clayver 
man.” 

“ Do you know, my lord,” said Mrs. Witterly, after a long 
silence, “ I find I take so much more interest in his plays 
after having been to that dear little dull house he was born in! 
Were you ever there, my lord ? ” 

“ No, nayver.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


235 


“ Then really you ought to go, my lord,” returned Mrs. 
Witterly, in very languid and drawling accents. “ I don’t 
know how it is, but after you’ve seen the place and written 
your name in the little book, somehow or other you seem to 
be inspired; it kindles up quite a fire within one.” 

“Ye-es! I shall certainly go there.” 

“ Julia, my life,” interposed Mr. Witterly, “ you are de¬ 
ceiving his lordship — unintentionally, my lord, she is de¬ 
ceiving you. It is your poetical temperament, my dear — 
your ethereal soul — your fervid imagination, which throws 
you into a glow of genius and excitement. There is nothing 
in the place, my dear — nothing, nothing.” 

“ I think there must be something in the place,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby, who had been listening in silence; “ for soon after 
I was married, I went to Stratford with my poor dear Mr. 
Nickleby, in a post-chaise from Birmingham — was it a post- 
chaise though! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, considering; “yes, it 
must have been a post-chaise, because I recollect remarking 
at the time that the driver had a green shade over his left 
eye; —in a post-chaise from Birmingham, and after we had 
seen Shakespeare’s tomb and birthplace, we went back to the 
inn there, where we slept that night, and I recollect that all 
night long I dreamt of nothing but a black gentleman, at full 
length, in plaster-of-Paris, with a lay-down collar tied with 
two tassels, leaning against a post and thinking; and when I 
woke in the morning and described him to Mr. Nickleby, he 
said it was Shakespeare just as he had been when he was 
alive, which was very curious indeed.” 

When Mrs. Nickleby had brought this interesting anecdote 
to a close, Pyke and Pluck, ever zealous in their patron’s 
cause, proposed the adjournment of some of the party into 
the next box; and with so much skill were the preliminaries 
adjusted that Kate, despite all she could say or do to the 
contrary, had no alternative but to allow herself to be led 


236 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


away by Sir Mulberry Hawk. Her mother and Mr. Pluck 
accompanied them, but the worthy lady, pluming herself 
upon her discretion, took particular care not so much as to 
look at her daughter during the whole evening and to seem 
wholly absorbed in the jokes and conversation of Mr. Pluck, 
who, having been appointed sentry over Mrs. Nickleby for 
that especial purpose, neglected no possible opportunity of 
engrossing her. attention. 

Lord Frederick Verisopht remained in the next box to be 
talked to by Mrs. Witterly, and Mr. Pyke was in attendance 
to throw in a word or two when necessary. As to Mr. 
Witterly, he was sufficiently busy in the body of the house, 
informing such of his friends and acquaintances as happened 
to be there that those two gentlemen upstairs whom they 
had seen in conversation with Mrs. W. were the distinguished 
Lord Frederick Verisopht and his most intimate friend, the 
gay Sir Mulberry Hawk. 

The evening came to an end at last, but Kate had yet to 
be escorted downstairs by the detested Sir Mulberry; and 
so skillfully w T ere the manoeuvres of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck 
conducted, that she and the baronet were the last of the 
party, and were, even without an appearance of effort or 
design — left at some little distance behind. 

“ Don’t hurry, don’t hurry,” said Sir Mulberry, as Kate 
hastened on, and attempted to release her arm. 

She made no reply, but still pressed forward. 

“ Nay, then-” coolly observed Sir Mulberry, stopping 

her outright. 

“ You had best not detain me, sir! ” said Kate, angrily. 

“ And why not ? My dear girl, now why do you keep up 
this show of displeasure ? ” 

“ Show! How dare you presume to speak to me, sir — to 
address me — to come into my presence ? ” 

“ You look prettier in a passion, Miss Nickleby,” said Sir 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 237 

Mulberry Hawk, stooping down, the better to see her 
face. 

“ I told you that I hold you in the bitterest detestation and 
contempt. If you find any attraction in looks of disgust and 
aversion, you — let me rejoin my friends instantly. What 
ever considerations may have withheld me so far, I will dis¬ 
regard them all, and take a course that even you might feel, 
if you do not immediately allow me to proceed.” 

Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and re¬ 
taining her arm, walked towards the door. 

“ If no regard for my sex or helpless situation will induce 
you to stop this coarse and unmanly persecution,” said Kate, 
scarcely knowing, in the tumult of her passions, what she said, 
“ I have a brother who will resent it dearly one day.” 

“Upon my soul! ” exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though 
quietly communing with himself and passing his arm round 
her waist as he spoke, u she looks more beautiful, and I like 
her better in this mood, than when her eyes are cast down 
and she is in perfect repose! ” 

How Kate reached the lobby where her friends were wait¬ 
ing she never knew, but she hurried across it without at all 
regarding them, disengaged herself suddenly from her com¬ 
panion, sprang into the coach, and throwing herself into its 
darkest corner burst into tears. 

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw 
the party into great commotion by shouting for the carriages 
and getting up a violent quarrel with sundry inoffensive by¬ 
standers. In the midst of this tumult they put the affrighted 
Mrs. Nickleby in her chariot, and having got her safely off, 
turned their thoughts to Mrs. Witterly, whose attention also 
they had now effectually distracted from the young lady, by 
throwing her into a state of the utmost bewilderment and 
consternation. At length, the conveyance in which Mrs. 
Witterly had come rolled off, too, with its load, and the four 


238 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


worthies, being left alone under the portico, enjoyed a hearty 
laugh together. 

“ There,” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his noble friend, 
“ didn’t I tell you last night that if we could find where they 
were going by bribing a servant through my fellow, and then 
establish ourselves close by with the mother, these people’s 
house would be our own ? Why here it is, done in f our-and- 
twenty hours.” 

“ Ye-es,” replied the dupe. “ But I have been tied, to the 
old woman all ni-ight.” 

“Hear him!” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his two 
friends. “ Hear this discontented grumbler. Isn’t it enough 
to make a man swear never to help him in his plots and 
schemes again. Isn’t it an infernal shame? ” 

Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame, and 
Pluck asked Pyke; but neither answered. 

“Isn’t it the truth? Wasn’t it so?” demanded Lord 
Frederick. 

“Wasn’t it so! ” repeated Sir Mulberry. “How would 
you have had it? How could we have got a general invita¬ 
tion at first sight to visit at their home — come when you like, 
go when you like, stop as long as you like, do what you like 
— if you, the lord, had not made yourself agreeable to the 
foolish mistress of the house ? Do I care for this girl, except 
as your friend? Haven’t I been sounding your praises in 
her ears and bearing her pretty sulks and peevishness all 
night for you? What sort of stuff do you think I’m made of? 
Would I do this for every man? Don’t I deserve even grati¬ 
tude in return ? ” 

“ You’re a deyvlish good fellow,” said the poor young 
lord, taking his friend’s arm. “ Upon my life, you’re a 
deyvlish good fellow, Hawk.” 

“ And I have done right, have I ? ” demanded Sir Mul¬ 
berry. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


239 


“ Quite ri-ght.” 

“ And like a poor, silly, good-natured, friendly dog as I 
am, eh ? ” 

“ Ye-es, ye-es, like a friend,” replied the other. 

“ Well, then, Fm satisfied,” replied Sir Mulberry. 

With these words he took his companion’s arm and led 
him away, turning half round as he did so and bestowing a 
wink and a contemptuous smile on Messrs. Pike and Pluck, 
who, cramming their handkerchiefs into their mouths to 
denote their silent enjoyment of the proceedings, followed 
their patron and his victim at a little distance. 


CHAPTER XVII 

T HE next morning brought reflection with it, as morning 
usually does; but widely different was the train of 
thought it awakened in the different persons who had been 
so unexpectedly brought together on the preceding evening, 
by the active agency of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck. 

The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk turned upon Kate 
Nickleby, and were, in brief, that she was undoubtedly hand¬ 
some ; that her coyness must be easily conquerable by a man 
of his address and experience. 

The reflections of Mrs. Nickleby were of the proudest and 
most complacent kind. Under the influence of her very 
agreeable delusion she straightway sat down and wrote a 
long letter to Kate, in which she expressed her entire ap¬ 
proval of the admirable choice she had made and extolled 
Sir Mulberry to the skies. 

Poor Kate was well nigh distracted on the receipt of four 
closely written and closely crossed sides of congratulation on 
the very subject which had prevented her closing her eyes all 
night, and kept her weeping and watching in her room. Still 


240 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


worse and more trying was the necessity of rendering herself 
agreeable to Mrs. Witterly, who, being in low spirits after 
the fatigue of the preceding night, of course expected her 
companion to be in the best of spirits possible. As to Mr. 
Witterly, he went about all day in a tremor of delight at 
having shaken hands with a lord and having actually asked 
him to come to see him in his own house. The lord himseif, 
not being troubled to any inconvenient extent with the power 
of thinking, regaled himself with the conversation of Messrs. 
Pyke and Pluck, who sharpened their wit by a plentiful 
indulgence in various costly stimulants at his expense. 

It was four in the afternoon, and Mrs. Witterly reclined, 
according to custom, on the drawing-room sofa, while Kate 
read aloud a new novel in three volumes, entitled The Lady 
Flabella, which Alphonse had procured from the library that 
very morning. It was a production admirably suited to a 
lady labouring under Mrs. Witterly’s complaint, seeing that 
there was not a line in it, from beginning to end, which could 
awaken the smallest excitement in any person breathing. 

Kate read on. 

“ Close the book, Miss Nickleby,” said Mrs. Witterly. 
“ I can hear nothing more today. I should be sorry to dis¬ 
turb the impression of that sweet description. Close the 
book.” 

Kate complied, not unwillingly; and as she did so, Mrs. 
Witterly, raising her glass with a languid hand, remarked 
that she looked pale. 

“ It was the fright of that — that noise and confusion last 
night,” said Kate. 

“How very odd! ” exclaimed Mrs. Witterly, with a look 
of surprise. And certainly, when one comes to think of it, 
it was very odd that anything should have disturbed a com¬ 
panion. 

“ How did you come to know Lord Frederick and those 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


241 


other delightful men, child? ” asked Mrs. Witterly, still eyeing 
Kate through her glass. 

“ I met them at my uncle’s/’ said Kate, vexed to feel that 
she was colouring deeply, but unable to keep down the blood 
which rushed to her face whenever she thought of that man. 

“ Have you known them long ? ” 

“ No, not very.” 

“ I was very glad of the opportunity which that respectable 
person, your mother, gave us of being known to them. Some 
friends of ours were on the very point of introducing us, 
which makes it quite remarkable.” 

This was said lest Miss Nickleby should grow conceited 
on the honour and dignity of having known four great people 
(for Pyke and Pluck were included among the delightful 
men) whom Mrs. Witterly did not know. But as the cir¬ 
cumstance had made no impression one way or other upon 
Kate’s mind, the force of the observation was quite lost 
upon her. 

« They asked permission to call. I gave it to them, of 
course,” said the lady of the house. 

“Do you expect them today?” Kate ventured to in¬ 
quire. 

Mrs. Witterly’s answer was lost in the noise of a tremen¬ 
dous rapping at the street door, and before it had ceased to 
vibrate, there drove up a handsome cabriolet, out of which 
leaped Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend Lord Frederick. 
This was seen through the window. 

“ They are here now,” said Kate, rising and hurrying away. 

“Miss Nickleby! ” cried Mrs. Witterly, perfectly aghast 
at a companion’s attempting to leave the room without her 
permission. “ Pray don’t think of going. 

“ You are very good! But-” 

“ For goodness’s sake, don’t agitate me by making me speak 
so much I dear me, Miss Nickleby, I beg-” 


242 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


It was in vain for Kate to protest, for the footsteps of the 
knockers, whoever they were, were already on the stairs. 
She resumed her seat, and had scarcely done so, when the 
page darted into the room and announced, Mr. Pyke, and 
Mr. Pluck, and Lord Frederick Verisopht, and Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk. 

“ The most extraordinary thing in the world,” said Mr. 
Pluck, saluting both ladies with the utmost cordiality; “ the 
most extraordinary thing. As Lord Frederick and Sir Mul¬ 
berry drove up to the door, Pyke and I had that instant 
knocked.” 

“ That instant knocked,” said Pyke. 

“No matter how you came, so that you are here,” said 
Mrs. Witterly, who, by dint of lying on the same sofa for 
three years and a half, had got up a little pantomime of 
graceful attitudes, and now threw herself into the most 
striking of the series to astonish the visitors. “ I am de¬ 
lighted, I am sure.” 

“And how is Miss Nickleby? ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, 
accosting Kate, in a low voice;' not so low, however, but that 
it reached the ears of Mrs. Witterly. 

“ Why, she complains of suffering from the fright of last 
night. I am sure I don’t wonder at it, for my nerves are 
quite torn to pieces.” 

“And yet you look,” observed Sir Mulberry, turning 
round, “ and yet you look-” 

“Beyond everything,” said Mr. Pyke, coming to his 
patron’s assistance. Of course, Mr. Pluck said the same. 

“ I am afraid Sir Mulberry is a flatterer, my lord,” said 
Mrs. Witterly turning to that young gentleman, who had been 
sucking the head of his cane in silence and staring at Kate. 

“Oh, deyvlish! ” replied my lord. Having given utter¬ 
ance to which remarkable sentiment, he occupied himself as 
before. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


243 


“ Neither does Miss Nickleby look the worse/’ said Sir 
Mulberry, bending his bold gaze upon her. “ She was always 
handsome, but upon my soul, ma’am, you seem to have im¬ 
parted some of your own good looks to her besides.” 

To judge from the glow which suffused the poor girl’s 
countenance after this speech, Mrs. Witterly might, with 
some show of reason, have been supposed to have imparted 
to it some of that artificial bloom which decorated her own. 
Mrs. Witterly admitted, though not with the best grace in 
the world, that Kate did look pretty. She began to think, 
too, that Sir Mulberry was not quite so agreeable a person 
as she had at first supposed him; for although a skillful 
flatterer is a most delightful companion if you can keep him 
all to yourself, his taste becomes very doubtful when he takes 
to complimenting other people. 

“ Pyke,” said the watchful Mr. Pluck, observing the effect 
which the praise of Miss Nickleby had produced. 

“ Well, Pluck.” 

“ Is there anybody,” demanded Mr. Pluck, mysteriously, 
“ anybody you know, whom Mrs. Witterly’s profile reminds 
you of? ” 

“ Reminds me of! Of course there is.” 

“ Who do you mean? ” said Pluck, in the same mysterious 
manner. “ The D. of B.?” 

“ The C. of B.,” replied Pyke, with the faintest trace of 
a grin lingering in his countenance. “ The beautiful sister 
is the countess, not the duchess.” 

“ True, the C. of B. The resemblance is wonderful! ” 

“ Perfectly startling! ” said Mr. Pyke. 

Here was a state of things! Mrs. Witterly was declared, 
upon the testimony of two veracious and competent wit¬ 
nesses, to be the very picture of a countess! This was one 
of the consequences of getting into good society. Why, she 
might have moved among grovelling people for twenty years 


244 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


and never heard of it. How could she’ indeed? What did 
they know about countesses! 

The two gentlemen having by the greediness with which 
this little bait was swallowed tested the extent of Mrs. 
Witterly’s appetite for flattery proceeded to administer that 
commodity in very large doses, thus affording to Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk an opportunity of pestering Miss Nickleby with 
questions and remarks to which she was absolutely obliged 
to make some reply. Meanwhile Lord Frederick enjoyed 
unmolested the full flavour of the gold knob at the top of his 
cane, as he would have done to the end of the interview if 
Mr. Witterly had not come home and caused the conversation 
to turn to his favourite topic. 

“ My lord,” said Mr. Witterly, “ I am delighted — hon¬ 
oured— proud. Be seated again, my lord, pray. I am 
proud, indeed; most proud.” 

It was to the secret annoyance of his wife that Mr. Witterly 
said all this, for, although she was bursting with pride and 
arrogance, she would have had the illustrious guests believe 
that their visit was quite a common occurrence and that they 
had lords and baronets to see them every day in the week. 
But Mr. Witterly’s feelings were beyond the power of sup¬ 
pression. 

“ It is an honour, indeed! Julia, my soul, you will suffer 
for this tomorrow.” 

“ Suffer! ” cried Lord Frederick. 

“ The reaction, my lord, the reaction,” said Mr. Witterly. 
“ This violent strain upon the nervous system over, my lord, 
what ensues ? A sinking, a depression, a lowness, a lassitude, 
a debility. My lord, if Dr. Tumley Snuffim, her doctor, 
was to see that delicate lady at this moment, he would not 
give a — a — this for her life.” In illustration of which re¬ 
mark, Mr. Witterly took a pinch of snuff from his box, and 
jerked it lightly into the air as an emblem of instability. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


245 


“ Mrs. Witterly,” said her husband, “ is Dr. Tumley 
Snuffim’s favourite patient. I believe I may venture to 
say that Mrs. Witterly is the first person who took the new 
medicine which is supposed to have destroyed a family at 
Kensington Gravel Pits. I believe she has. If I am wrong, 
Julia, my dear, you will correct me.” 

“ I believe I was,” said Mrs. Witterly, in a faint voice. 

As there appeared to be some doubt in the mind of his 
patron how he could best join in this conversation, the in¬ 
defatigable Mr. Pyke threw himself into the breach, and, 
by way of saying something to the point, inquired — with 
reference to the aforesaid medicine — whether it was nice? 

“ No, sir, it was not. It had not even that recommenda¬ 
tion,” said Mr. W. 

“ Mrs. Witterly is quite a martyr,” observed Pyke, with 
a complimentary bow. 

“ I think I am,” said Mrs. Witterly, smiling. 

“ I think you are, my dear Julia,” replied her husband, 
in a tone which seemed to say that he was not vain, but still 
must insist upon their privileges. “If anybody, my lord,” 
added Mr. Witterly, wheeling round to the nobleman, “ will 
produce to me a greater martyr than Mrs. Witterly, all I 
can say is that I shall be glad to see that martyr, whether 
male or female — that’s all, my lord.” 

Pyke and Pluck promptly remarked that certainly nothing 
could be fairer than that; and the call having been by this 
time protracted to a very great length, they obeyed Sir 
Mulberry’s look and rose to go. This brought Sir Mulberry 
himself and Lord Frederick on their legs also. Many pro¬ 
testations of friendship were exchanged, and the visitors 
departed with renewed assurances that at all times and sea¬ 
sons the mansion of the Witterly’s would be honoured by re¬ 
ceiving them beneath its roof. 

After this day they came at all times and seasons. They 


246 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


dined there one day, supped the next, dined again on the 
next, and were constantly to and fro on all days. They 
made parties to visit public places and met by accident. 
And upon all these occasions Miss Nickleby was exposed to 
the constant and unremitting persecution of Sir Mulberry 
Hawk, — there seemed no escape from his insulting presence. 
She had no intervals of peace or rest, except at those hours 
when she could sjt in her solitary room and weep over the 
trials of the day. These conditions were consequences nat¬ 
urally flowing from the well-laid plans of Sir Mulberry, and 
their able execution by Pyke and Pluck. For a fortnight 
matters went on in this way. 

As the odious Sir Mulberry Hawk attached himself to 
Kate with less and less disguise, Mrs. Witterly began to grow 
jealous of the superior attractions of Miss Nickleby. The 
dreadful idea that Lord Frederick Verisopht also was some¬ 
what taken with Kate and that she, Mrs. Witterly, was quite 
a secondary person finally dawned upon that lady’s mind. 
Then she became possessed with a large quantity of highly 
proper indignation and felt- it her duty, as a married lady 
and a moral member of society, to mention the circumstance 
to “ the young person ” without delay. 

Accordingly Mrs. Witterly broke ground one morning 
during a pause in the novel reading. 

“ Miss Nickleby, I wish to speak to you very gravely. I 
am sorry to do it, upon my word, I am very sorry; but you 
leave me no alternative, Miss Nickleby.” Here Mrs. Wit¬ 
terly tossed her head — not passionately, only virtuously — 
and remarked, with some appearance of excitement, that she 
feared that palpitation of the heart was coming on again. 

“ Your behaviour, Miss Nickleby, is very far from pleasing 
me — very far. I am very anxious indeed that you should do 
well, but you may depend upon it, Miss Nickleby, you will 
not if you go on as you do.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


247 


“Ma’am! ” exclaimed Kate, proudly. 

“ Don’t agitate me by speaking in that way, Miss Nickleby; 
don’t, or you’ll compel me to ring the bell.” 

Kate looked at her, but said nothing. 

“You needn’t suppose that your looking at me in that 
way, Miss Nickleby, will prevent my saying what I am 
going to say, which I feel to be a religious duty. You needn’t 
direct your glances towards me. I am not Sir Mulberry, 
no, nor Lord Frederick Yerisopht, Miss Nickleby; nor am 
I Mr. Pyke, nor Mr. Pluck either.” Kate looked at her 
again, but less steadily than before and, resting her elbow 
on the table, covered her eyes with her hand. 

“ If such things had been done when I was a young girl, 
I don’t suppose anybody would have believed it.” 

“ I don’t think they would,” murmured Kate. “ I do not 
think anybody would believe, without actually knowing it, 
what I seem doomed to undergo! ” 

“Don’t talk to me of being doomed to undergo, Miss 
Nickleby, if you please. I will not be answered, Miss 
Nickleby. I am not accustomed to be answered, nor will I 
permit it for an instant. Do you hear? ” she added, waiting 
with some apparent inconsistency for an answer. 

“ I do hear you, ma’am, with surprise; with greater sur¬ 
prise than I can express.” 

“ I have always considered you a particularly well-behaved 
young person of healthy appearance and neat in your dress 
and so forth. I have taken an interest in you, as I do still, 
considering that I owe a sort of duty to that respectable old 
female, your mother. For these reasons, Miss Nickleby, I 
must tell you once for all that I must insist upon your im¬ 
mediately altering your very forward behaviour to the gentle¬ 
men who visit at this house. It really is not becoming,^ said 
Mrs. Witterly, closing her chaste eyes as she spoke “ it is 
improper, quite improper.” 


248 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Oh! ” cried Kate, “ is not this, is not this too cruel, too 
hard to bear! Is it not enough that I should have suffered 
as I have, night and day; that I should almost have sunk in 
my own estimation from very shame of having been brought 
into contact with such people; but must I also be exposed 
to this unjust and most unfounded charge! ” 

“ You will have the goodness to recollect, Miss Nickleby, 
that when you use such terms as ‘ unjust' and ‘ unfounded/ 
you charge me, in effect, with stating that which is un¬ 
true.” 

“I do; I say it is vilely, grossly, wilfully untrue. Is it 
possible that any one of my own sex can have sat by and 
not have seen the misery these men have caused me! Is 
it possible that you, ma'am, can have been present and failed 
to mark the insulting freedom that their every look showed? 
Is it possible that you can have avoided seeing that these 
libertines, in their utter disrespect for you and utter disregard 
of all gentlemanly behaviour, and almost of decency, have 
had but one object in introducing themselves here, and that 
the furtherance of their designs upon a friendless, helpless girl, 
who, without this humiliating confession, might have hoped 
to receive from one so much her senior something like 
womanly aid and sympathy ? I do not — I cannot believe 
it! ” 

If poor Kate had possessed the slightest knowledge of the 
world, she certainly would not have ventured upon such 
an injudicious speech as this. Its effect was precisely what 
a more experienced observer would have foreseen. Mrs. 
Witterly received the attack upon her veracity with exem¬ 
plary calmness and listened with the most heroic fortitude 
to Kate's account of her own sufferings. But allusions being 
made to her being held in disregard by the gentlemen, she 
evinced violent emotion, and this blow was no sooner followed 
up by the remark concerning her seniority than she fell back 
upon the sofa, uttering dismal screams. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


249 


“ What is the matter! ” cried Mr. Witterly, bouncing into 
the room. “Heavens, what do I see! Julia! Julia! 
Look up, my life, look up! ” 

But Julia looked down most perseveringly and screamed 
still louder! So Mr. Witterly rang the bell and danced in a 
frenzied manner round the sofa on which Mrs. Witterly lay, 
uttering perpetual cries for Dr. Tumley Snuffim, and never 
once leaving off to ask for any explanation of the scene before 
him. 

“ Run for Dr. Snuffim,” cried Mr. Witterly, menacing the 
page with both fists. “ I knew it, Miss Nickleby,” he said, 
looking round with an air of melancholy triumph, “ that 
society has been too much for her. This is all soul, you 
know, every bit of it.” With this assurance Mr. Witterly 
took up the prostrate form of Mrs. Witterly and carried her 
bodily off to bed. 

After Dr. Tumley Snuffim had paid his visit and looked 
in with the report, that, through a merciful Providence, Mrs. 
Witterly had gone to sleep, Kate hastily attired herself for 
walking and, leaving word that she would return within 
a couple of hours, hurried away towards her uncle s 
house. 

It had been a good day with Ralph Nickleby, quite a lucky 
day. He walked to and fro in his little back room with his 
hands clasped behind him, adding up in his own mind all the 
su ms that had been, or would be, netted from the business 
done since morning. 

“ Very good! ” said Ralph, in allusion, no doubt, to some 
proceeding of the day. “ Who’s that ? ” . „ 

“ Me,” said Newman Noggs, looking in. “ Your niece. 

“ What of her? ” asked Ralph sharply. 

“ She’s here.” 

“Here?” 

Newman jerked his head towards his little room to signify 
that she was waiting there. 


250 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ What does she want? ” 

“ I don’t know. Shall I ask? ” he added quickly. 

“ No, show her in! Stay.” He hastily put away a pad¬ 
locked cashbox that was on the table, and substituted in its 
stead an empty purse. “ There, now she may come in.” 

Newman, with a grim smile at this manoeuvre, beckoned the 
young lady to advance, and having placed a chair for her, 
retired, looking stealthily over his shoulder at Ralph, as he 
limped slowly out. 

“ Well,” said Ralph, roughly enough, but still with some¬ 
thing more of kindness in his manner than he would have 
exhibited towards anybody else. “Well, my — dear. What 
now ? ” 

Kate raised her eyes, which were filled with tears, and with 
an effort to master her emotion strove to speak, but in vain. 
So drooping her head again, she remained silent. Her face 
was hidden from his view, but Ralph could see that she was 
weeping. 

“ I can guess the cause of this! ” thought Ralph, after 
looking at her for some time in silence. “ I can — I can — 
guess the cause. Well! Well! ” — for the moment quite 
disconcerted, as he watched the anguish of his beautiful 
niece. “Where is the harm? Only a few tears; and it’s 
an excellent lesson for her, an excellent lesson.” 

“ What is the matter ? ” asked Ralph, drawing a chair op¬ 
posite and sitting down. 

He was rather taken aback by the sudden firmness with 
which Kate looked up and answered him. 

“ The matter which brings me to you, sir, is one which 
should call the blood up into your cheeks and make you burn 
to hear, as it does me to tell. I have been wronged; my feel¬ 
ings have been outraged, insulted, wounded past all healing, 
and by your friends.” 

“ Friends! I have no friends, girl,” said Ralph sternly. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


251 


“ By the men I saw here, then. If they were no friends 
of yours, and you knew what they were — oh, the more 
shame on you, uncle, for bringing me among them. To 
have subjected me to what I was exposed to here, through 
any misplaced confidence or imperfect knowledge of your 
guests, would have required some strong excuse; but if you 
did it — as I now believe you did — knowing them well, it 
was most dastardly and cruel.” 

Ralph drew back in utter amazement at this plain speaking 
and regarded Kate with the sternest look. But she met his 
gaze proudly and firmly; and although her face was very 
pale, it looked more noble and handsome, lighted up as it 
was, than it had ever appeared before. 

“There is some of that boy’s blood in you, I see,” said 
Ralph, speaking in his hardest tones, as something in the 
flashing eye reminded him of Nicholas at their last meeting. 

“ I hope there is! I should be proud to know it. I am 
young, uncle, and all the difficulties and miseries of my 
situation have kept it down, but I have been roused today 
beyond all endurance, and come what may, I will not, as I 
am your brother’s child, bear these insults longer.” 

“ What insults, girl? ” 

“ Remember what took place here, and ask yourself. 
Uncle, you must — lam sure you will — release me from such 
vile and degrading companionships as I am exposed to now. 
I do not mean,” said Kate, hurrying to the old man and 
laying her arm upon his shoulder, “ I do not mean to be 
angry and violent — I beg your pardon if I have seemed so, 
dear uncle, — but you cannot tell what the heart of a young 
girl is — I have no right to expect you should; but when 
I tell you that I am wretched, and that my heart is 
breaking, I am sure you will help me. I am sure, I am sure 
you will! ” 

Ralph looked at her for an instant, then turned away 


252 


NICHOLAS.NICKLEBY 


his head, and beat his foot nervously upon the ground. 

“ I have gone on day after day,” said Kate, bending over 
him and timidly placing her little hand in his, “ in the hope 
that this persecution would cease. I have gone on day after 
day, compelled to assume the appearance of cheerfulness 
when I was most unhappy. I have had no counsellor, no 
adviser, no one to protect me. Mama supposes that these 
are honourable men, rich and distinguished, and how can I 
— how can I undeceive her — when she is so happy in these 
little delusions, which are the only happiness she has? The 
lady with whom you placed me is not the person to whom I 
could confide matters of so much delicacy, and I have come 
at last to you, the only friend I have at hand — almost the 
only friend I have at all — to entreat and implore you to 
assist me.” 

“ How can I assist you, child ? ” said Ralph, rising from his 
chair and pacing up and down the room in his old attitude. 

“You have influence with one of these men, I know; 
would not a word from you induce them to desist from this 
unmanly course ? ” 

“ No, at least — that — I can’t say it, if it would.” 

“ Can’t say it! ” 

“ No,” said Ralph, coming to a dead stop and clasping his 
hands more tightly behind him. “ I can’t say it.” 

Kate fell back a step or two and looked at him, as if in 
doubt whether she had heard aright. 

“ We are connected in business,” said Ralph, poising him¬ 
self alternately on his toes and heels and looking coolly in 
his niece’s face, “ in business, and I can’t afford to offend 
them. What is it, after all? We have all our trials, and 
this is one of yours. Some girls would be proud to have such 
gallants at their feet ” 

“ Proud! ” 

“ I don’t say,” rejoined Ralph, raising his forefinger, “ but 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


253 


that you do right to despise them; no, you show your good 
sense in that, as indeed I knew from the first you would. 
Well. In all other respects you are comfortably bestowed. 
It’s not much to bear. If this young lord does dog your 
footsteps and whisper his drivelling inanities in your ears, 
what of it? It’s a dishonourable passion. So be it; it 
won’t last long. Some other novelty will spring up one day, 
and you will be released. In the meantime-” 

“ In the meantime, I am to be the scorn of my own sex 
and the toy of the other; justly condemned by all women 
of right feeling and despised by all honest and honourable 
men* sunken in my own esteem and degraded in every eye 
that looks upon me. No, not if I work my fingers to the 
bone, not if I am driven to the roughest and hardest labour. 
Do not mistake me. I will not disgrace your recommenda¬ 
tion. I will remain in the house in which it placed me, until 
I am entitled to leave it by the terms of my engagement; 
though, mind, I see these men no more! When I leave it, I 
will hide myself from them and you, and, striving to support 
my mother by hard service, I will live, at least, in peace, and 
trust in God to help me.” 

With these words, she waved her hand and left the room, 
leaving Ralph Nickleby motionless as a statue. 

The surprise with which Kate, as she closed the room 
door, beheld, close beside it, Newman Noggs standing bolt 
upright in a little niche in. the wall, almost occasioned her 
to call aloud. But, Newman laying his fingers upon his 
lips, she had the presence of mind to refrain. 

“ Don’t,” said Newman, gliding out of his recess and 
accompanying her across the hall. “ Don’t cry, don’t cry.” 
Two very large tears, by the by, were running down New¬ 
man’s face as he spoke. 

“ I see how it is,” said poor Noggs, drawing from his pocket 
what seemed to be a very old duster, and wiping Kate s eyes 



254 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

with it, as gently as if she were an infant. “ You’re giving 
way now. Yes, yes, very good; that’s right, I like that. It 
was right not to give way before him. Yes, yes! Ha, ha, ha! 
Oh, yes. Poor thing! ” 

With these disjointed exclamations, Newman wiped his 
own eyes with the aforementioned duster and, limping to 
the street door, opened it to let her out. 

“ Don’t cry any more,” whispered Newman. “ I shall see 
you soon. Ha! ha! ha! And so shall somebody else too. 
Yes, yes. Ho! ho! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

T HE unexpected success with which his experiment at 
Portsmouth had been received induced Mr. Crummies 
to prolong his entertainment in that town two weeks longer 
than he had originally intended to stay. During this time 
Nicholas impersonated a vast variety of characters with 
undiminished success and attracted so many people to the 
theatre who had never been seen there before that a benefit 
was considered by the manager a very promising speculation. 
Nicholas assenting to the terms proposed, the benefit 1 was 
had, and by it he realised twenty pounds. 

Possessed of this unexpected wealth, his first act was to 
enclose to honest John Browdie the amount of his friendly 
loan, which he accompanied with many expressions of grati¬ 
tude and esteem and many cordial wishes for his matrimonial 
happiness. To Newman Noggs he forwarded one half of 
the sum he had realised, entreating him to take an opportunity 
of handing it to Kate in secret and conveying to her the 

1 A special performance the receipts of which are given some par¬ 
ticular player or other person. The practice still occurs sometimes 
in large cities. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


255 


warmest assurances of his love and affection. He made no 
mention of the way in which he had employed himself, merely 
informing Newman that a letter addressed to him under 
his assumed name at the post office, Portsmouth, would 
readily find him, and entreating that worthy friend to write 
full particulars of the situation of his mother and sister and an 
account of all the grand things that Ralph Nickleby had 
done for them since his departure from London. 

“ You are out of spirits,” said Smike, on the night after 
the letter had been sent. 

“ Not I!” rejoined Nicholas, with assumed gaiety, for 
the confession would have made Smike miserable all night; 
“ I was thinking about my sister, Smike.” 

“ Sister! ” 

“ Aye.” 

“ Is she like you? 

“ Why, so they say,” replied Nicholas, laughing, “ only a 
great deal handsomer.” 

“ She must be very beautiful,” said Smike, after thinking 
a little while, with his hands folded together, and his eyes 
bent upon his friend. 

“ Anybody who didn’t know you as well as I do, my 
dear fellow, would say you were an accomplished courtier, 
said Nicholas. 

“ I don’t even know what that is,” replied Smike, shaking 
his head. “ Shall I ever see your sister? ” 

“ To be sure; we shall all be together one of these days 
— when we are rich, Smike.” 

“ How is it that you, who are so kind and good to me, have 
nobody to be kind to you? I cannot make that out.” 

“ Why, it is a long story, and one you would have some t 
difficulty in comprehending, I fear. I have an enemy — 
you understand what that is? 

<{ Qh, yes, I understand that.” 


256 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Well, it is owing to him. He is rich, and not so easily 
punished as your old enemy, Mr. Squeers. He is my uncle, 
but he is a villain, and has done me wrong.” 

“ Has he, though? ” asked Smike, bending eagerly forward. 
“ What is his name? Tell me his name.” 

“ Ralph — Ralph Nickleby.” 

“ Ralph Nickleby,” repeated Smike. “ Ralph. I’ll get 
that name by heart.” 

Nicholas bore his triumph, as he had his success in the 
little world of the theatre, with the utmost moderation and 
good humour. 

“ Well, Smike,” said Nicholas one night when the play was 
over, and he had almost finished dressing to go home, " is 
there any letter yet ? ” 

“ Yes, I got this one from the post office.” 

“ From Newman Noggs,” said Nicholas, casting his eye 
upon the cramped direction; “ it’s no easy matter to make his 
writing out. Let me see — let me see.” 

By studying over the letter for half an hour, he contrived 
to make himself master of the contents, which were certainly 
not of a nature to set his mind at ease. Newman took upon 
himself to send back the ten pounds, observing that neither 
Mrs. Nickleby nor Kate was in actual want of money at the 
moment and that a time might shortly come when Nicholas 
might want it more. He entreated him not to be alarmed 
at what he was about to say. There was no bad news — 
they were in good health — but he thought circumstances 
might occur, or were occurring, which would render it abso¬ 
lutely necessary that Kate should have her brother’s pro¬ 
tection; and if so, Newman said, he would write to him to that 
effect, either by the next post or the next but one. 

Nicholas read this passage very often, and the more he 
thought of it, the more he began to fear some treachery upon 
the part of Ralph. Once or twice he felt tempted to go to 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


257, 


London at all hazards without an hour’s delay, but a little 
reflection assured him that, if such a step were necessary, 
Newman would have spoken out and told him so at once. 

“ At all events I should prepare them here for the possi¬ 
bility of my going away suddenly. I should lose no time in 
doing that.” As the thought occurred to him, he took up 
his hat and hurried to the green door. 

Mr. Vincent Crummies was no sooner acquainted with 
the public announcement which Nicholas had made relative 
to the probability of his shortly ceasing to be a member of 
the company than he evinced many tokens of grief and con¬ 
sternation and, in the extremity of his despair, even held out 
certain vague promises of a speedy increase in his regular 
salary for acting and also more pay for his work as a 
theatrical writer.- Finding Nicholas bent upon quitting the 
society (for he had now determined that, even if no further 
tidings came from Newman, he would, at all hazards, ease 
his mind by going to London and ascertaining the exact posi¬ 
tion of his sister), Mr. Crummies had to content himself by 
calculating the chances of his coming back again and taking 
prompt and energetic measures to make the most of him 
before he went away. 

“ Let me see,” said Mr. Crummies, taking off his outlaw’s 
wig, the better to arrive at a cool-headed view of the whole 
case. “ Let me see. This is Wednesday night. We’ll have 
posters out the first thing in the morning, announcing posi¬ 
tively your last appearance for tomorrow.” 

“ But perhaps it may not be my last appearance, you know; 
unless I am summoned away, I should be sorry to incon¬ 
venience you by leaving before the end of the week. 

“So much the better; we can have positively your last 
appearance, on Thursday — reengagement for one night 
more, on Friday —and, yielding to the wishes of numerous 
influential patrons, who were disappointed in obtaining seats, 


258 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


the very last on Saturday. That ought to bring three very 
decent houses.” 

“ Then I am to make three last appearances, am I? ” in¬ 
quired Nicholas, smiling. 

“ Yes,” rejoined the manager, scratching his head with an 
air of some vexation; “three is not enough, and it’s very 
bungling and irregular not to have more, but if we can’t help 
it, we can’t, so there’s no use in talking.” 

Next day the posters appeared, and the public were 
informed, in all the colours of the rainbow, that Mr. Johnson 
would have the honour of making his last appearance that 
evening. It was stated that an early application for places 
was requested, in consequence of the extraordinary overflow 
attendant on his performances. This was said, because it 
is generally a hopeless endeavour to attract people to a 
theatre unless they can be first brought to believe that they 
will never get into it. 

He went through his part in the two last pieces as briskly 
as he could, and having been received with unbounded favour 
and unprecedented applause — so said the bills for next day, 
which had been printed an hour or two before — he took 
Smike’s arm and walked home to bed. 

With the post next morning came a letter from Newman 
Noggs, very inky, very short, very dirty, very small, and 
very mysterious, urging Nicholas to return to London in¬ 
stantly; not to lose an instant; to be there at night if pos¬ 
sible. 

“ I will! Heaven knows I have remained here for the 
best and sorely against my will; but even now I may have 
dallied too long. What can have happened? Smike, my 
good fellow, here — take my purse. Put our things together, 
and pay what little debts we owe — quick, and we shall be 
in time for the morning coach. I will only tell them that we 
are going, and will return to you immediately.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


259 


So saying, he took his hat, and hurrying away to the lodg¬ 
ings of Mr. Crummies, applied his hand to' the knocker with 
such hearty good will that he awakened that gentleman, who 
was still in bed. 

The door being opened, Nicholas ran upstairs, without any 
ceremony, and bursting into the darkened sitting room found 
that the two Master Crummleses had sprung out of the sofa- 
bedstead and were putting on their clothes with great rapidity, 
under the impression that it was the middle of the night, and 
the next house was on fire. 

Before he could undeceive them, Mr. Crummies came down 
in a flannel gown and nightcap; and to him Nicholas briefly 
explained that circumstances had occurred which rendered 
it necessary for him to go to London immediately. 

“So good-by/’ said Nicholas; “good-by, good-by.” 

He was half-way downstairs before Mr. Crummies had 
sufficiently recovered his surprise to gasp out something about 
the posters. 

“ I can’t help it; set whatever I may have earned this week 
against them, or if that will not repay you, say at once what 
will. Quick, quick.” 

“ We’ll cry quits about that,” returned Crummies. “ But 
can’t we have one last night more? ” 

“Not an hour —not a minute,” replied Nicholas, impa¬ 
tiently. w 

“Won’t you stop to say something to Mrs. Crummies? 
asked the manager, following him down to the door. 

“ I couldn’t stop if it were to prolong my life a score of 
years. Here, take my hand, and with it my hearty thanks. 
— Oh! that I should have been fooling here! ” 

Accompanying these words with an impatient stamp upon 
the ground, he tore himself from the managers detaining 
grasp and, darting rapidly down the street, was out of sight 
in an instant. 


260 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Crummies, looking wist¬ 
fully towards the point at which he had just disappeared; 
“ if he only acted like that, what a deal of money he’d draw! 
He should have kept upon this circuit; he’d have been 
very useful to me. But he don’t know what’s good for 
him. He is an impetuous youth. Young men are rash, very 
rash.” 

Mr. Crummies being in a moralising mood, might possibly 
have moralised for some minutes longer if he had not me¬ 
chanically put his hand towards his waistcoat pocket, where 
he was accustomed to keep his snuff. The absence of any 
pocket at all in the usual direction suddenly recalled to his 
recollection the fact that he had no waistcoat on; and this 
leading him to a contemplation of the extreme scantiness 
of his attire, he shut the door abruptly and retired upstairs 
with great precipitation. 

Smike had made good speed while Nicholas was absent, 
and with his help everything was soon ready for their de¬ 
parture. They scarcely stopped to take a morsel of break¬ 
fast, and in less than half an hour arrived at the coach office, 
quite out of breath with the haste they had made to reach it 
in time. There were yet a few minutes to spare, so, having 
secured the places, Nicholas hurried to a store near by and 
bought Smike a greatcoat. It would have been rather large 
for a substantial yeoman, but the shopman saying (and with 
considerable truth) that it was a most uncommon fit, Nicholas 
would have purchased it in his impatience if it had been twice 
the size. 

As they hurried up to the coach, which was now in the 
open street and all ready for starting, Nicholas was greatly 
astonished to find himself suddenly clutched in a close and 
violent embrace which nearly took him off his legs; nor was 
his amazement at all lessened by hearing the voice of Mr. 
Crummies exclaim, “ It is he — my friend, my friend! ” 



“ Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted boy! ” 

















































262 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Bless my heart/’ cried Nicholas, struggling in the man¬ 
ager’s arms, “ what are you about ? ” 

The manager made no reply, but strained him to his 
breast again, exclaiming as he did so, “ Farewell, my noble, 
my lion-hearted boy! ” 

In fact, Mr. Crummies, who could never lose any oppor¬ 
tunity for professional display, had turned out for the express 
purpose of taking a public farewell of Nicholas; and to 
render it the more imposing, he was now, to that young 
gentleman’s most profound annoyance, inflicting upon him 
a rapid succession of stage embraces, which, as everybody 
knows, are performed by the embracer’s laying his or her 
chin on the shoulder of the object of affection and looking 
over it. This Mr. Crummies did in the highest style of melo¬ 
drama, pouring forth at the same time all the most dismal 
forms of farewell he could think of, out of the stock pieces. 
Nor was this all, for the elder Master Crummies was going 
through a similar ceremony with Smike; while the Master 
Percy Crummies, with a very little second-hand camlet 
cloak, worn theatrically over his left shoulder, stood by, in 
the attitude of an attendant officer. 

The lookers-on laughed very heartily; and as it was as 
well to put a good face upon the matter, Nicholas laughed 
too when he had succeeded in disengaging himself. Rescuing 
the astonished Smike, he climbed up to the coach roof after 
him, and kissed his hand in honour of the absent Mrs. 
Crummies as they rolled away. 

In blissful unconsciousness that his nephew was hasten¬ 
ing at the utmost speed of four good horses towards his 
sphere of action and that every passing minute diminished 
the distance between them, Ralph Nickleby sat that morning 
occupied in his customary avocations, and yet unable to 
prevent his thoughts wandering from time to time back to 
the interview which had taken place between himself and 
his niece on the previous day. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


263 


“ I am not a man to be moved by a pretty face; there 
is a grinning skull beneath it, and men like me who look 
and work below the surface see that, and not its delicate 
covering. And yet I almost like the girl, or should if she 
had been less proudly and squeamishly brought up. If the 
boy were drowned or hanged, and the mother dead, this 
house should be her home. I wish they were, with all my 
soul.” 

Notwithstanding the deadly hatred which Ralph felt to¬ 
wards Nicholas, and the bitter contempt with which he 
sneered at poor Mrs. Nickleby — notwithstanding the base¬ 
ness with which he had behaved, and was then behaving, 
and would behave again if his interest prompted him, towards 
Kate herself — still there was, strange though it may seem, 
something humanising and even gentle in his thoughts at that 
moment. He thought of what his home might be if Kate 
were there. Gold, for the instant, lost its lustre in his eyes, 
for there were countless treasures of the heart which it could 
never purchase. 

A very slight circumstance was sufficient to banish such 
reflections from the mind of such a man. As Ralph looked 
vacantly out across the yard towards the window of the 
other office, he became suddenly aware of the earnest obser¬ 
vation of Newman Noggs, who, feigned to be mending a pen 
with a rusty fragment of a knife, but was in reality staring 
at his employer with a countenance of the closest and most 
eager scrutiny. 

Ralph exchanged his dreamy posture for his accustomed 
business attitude, the face of Newman disappeared, and the 
train of thought took to flight. 

After a few minutes, Ralph rang his bell. Newman 
answered the summons, and Ralph raised his eyes stealthily 
to his face, as if he almost feared to read there a knowledge of 
his recent thoughts. 

There was not the smallest speculation, however, in the 


264 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


countenance of Newman Noggs. If it be possible to imagine 
a man, with two eyes in his head, and both wide open, 
looking in no direction whatever, and seeing nothing, New¬ 
man appeared to be that man while Ralph Nickleby re¬ 
garded him. 

“ How now? ” growled Ralph. 

“ Oh! ” said Newman, throwing some intelligence into his 
eyes all at once, and dropping them on his master, “ I thought 
you rang.” With which laconic remark Newman turned 
round and hobbled away. 

“ Stop! ” 

Newman stopped; not at all disconcerted. 

“ I did ring.” 

“ I knew you did.” 

“ Then why do you offer to go if you know that ? ” 

“ I thought you rang to say you didn’t ring. You often 
do.” 

“ How dare you pry, and peer, and stare at me, sirrah ? ” 

“ Stare! at you! Ha, ha! ” which was all the explanation 
Newman deigned to offer. 

“ Be careful, sir. Do you see this parcel ? ” 

“ It’s big enough.” 

“ Carry it into the City; to Cross, in Broad Street, and 
leave it there — quick. Do you hear?” 

Newman executed his commission with great promptitude 
and despatch, but as he returned and had got so far home¬ 
wards as the Strand, he began to loiter with the uncertain 
air of a man who has not quite made up his mind whether 
to halt or go straight forwards. After a very short considera¬ 
tion, the former inclination prevailed, and making towards 
the point he had had in his mind, Newman knocked a modest 
double knock, or rather a. nervous single one, at Miss La 
Creevy’s door. 

It was opened by a strange servant, on whom the odd 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


265 


figure of the visitor did not make the most favourable im¬ 
pression, for she no sooner saw him than she nearly closed it 
and, placing herself in the narrow gap, inquired what he 
wanted. But Newman, merely uttering the word “ Noggs,” 
as if it were some magic word at sound of which bolts would 
fly back and doors open, pushed briskly past and gained the 
door of Miss La Creevy’s sitting room before the astonished 
servant could offer any opposition. 

“ Walk in, if you please,” said Miss La Creevy, in reply 
to the sound of Newman’s knuckles, and in he walked. 

“Bless us! ” cried Miss La Creevy, starting, as Newman 
bolted in. “ What did you want, sir? ” 

“ You have forgotten me,” said Newman, with an inclina¬ 
tion of the head. “ I wonder at that. That nobody should 
remember me who knew me in other days is natural enough; 
but there are few people who, seeing me once, forget me 
now.” He glanced as he spoke, at his shabby clothes and 
paralytic leg, and slightly shook his head. 

“ I did forget you, I declare,” said Miss La Creevy, rising 
to receive Newman, who met her half-way, “ and I am 
ashamed of myself for doing so; for you are a kind, good 
creature, Mr. Noggs. Sit down and tell me all about Miss 
Nickleby. Poor dear thing! I haven’t seen her for this 
many a week.” 

“ How’s that ? ” 

“ Why I have been out in the country for quite a while 
visiting my brother, Mr. Noggs, or I should have seen her 
very often. Kate Nickleby is my dearest friend.” 

“ Have you seen the old lady ? ” 

“You mean Mrs. Nickleby? Then I tell you what, Mr. 
Noggs, if you want to keep in the good books in that quarter, 
you had better not call her the ‘ old lady ’ any more, for I 
suspect she wouldn’t be best pleased to hear you. Yes, I 
went there the night before last, but she was quite on the 


266 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


high ropes about something, and was so grand and mysterious 
that I couldn’t make anything of her; so, to tell you the 
truth, I took it into my head to be grand too and came away 
in state. I thought she would have come round again before 
this, but she hasn’t been here.” 

“ About Miss Nickleby-” said Newman. 

“ Why, she was here twice while I was away. I was afraid 
she mightn’t like to have me calling on her among those great 
folks in what’s-its-name place, so I thought I’d wait a day 
or two, and if I didn’t see her, write.” 

“Ah! ” exclaimed Newman, cracking his fingers. 

“ However, I want to hear all the news about them from 
you; how is the old rough-and-tough monster of Golden 
Square? Well, of course; such people always are. I don’t 
mean how is he in health, but how is he going on — how is he 
behaving himself ? ” 

“Blast him! ” cried Newman, dashing his cherished hat 
on the floor; “ like a false hound.” 

“ Gracious, Mr. Noggs, you quite terrify me! ” exclaimed 
Miss La Creevy, turning pale, as Newman darted about the 
room, shaking his fist. 

“ I should have spoilt his features yesterday afternoon if 
I could have afforded it,” said Newman, moving restlessly 
about, “ I was very near it. I was obliged to put my hands 
in my pockets and keep ’em there very tight. I shall do it 
some day in that little back parlour, I know I shall. I should 
have done it before now, if I hadn’t been afraid of making 
bad worse. I shall double-lock myself in with him and have 
it out before I die, I’m quite certain of it.” 

“ I shall scream if you don’t compose yourself, Mr. Noggs, 
I’m sure I shan’t be able to help it.” 

“ Never mind,” rejoined Newman, “ Mr. Nicholas is coming 
tonight; I wrote to tell him. Ralph Nickleby little thinks 
I know; he little thinks I care. Cunning scoundrel! he don’t 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 267 

think that. Not he, not he. Never mind, I’ll thwart him — 
I, Newman Noggs. Ho, ho, the rascal! ” 

Newman faithfully related all that had passed in the inter¬ 
view between Kate and her uncle, prefacing his narrative 
with a statement of his previous suspicions on the subject 
and his reasons for forming them and concluding with a com¬ 
munication of the step he had taken in secretly writing to 
Nicholas. 

If Ralph Nickleby had happened to make his appearance 
in the room at that moment, there is some doubt whether he 
would not have found Miss La Creevy a more dangerous 
opponent than even Newman Noggs himself. 

“ She won’t stop where she is, after tonight,” said Newman. 
“ That’s a comfort.” 

“ Stop! ” cried Miss La Creevy, “ she should have left there 
weeks ago.” 

“ — If we had known of this,” rejoined Newman. “But 
we didn’t. Nobody could properly interfere but her mother 
or brother. The mother’s weak — poor thing — weak. The 
dear young man will be here tonight.” 

“ Heart alive! He will do something desperate, Mr. Noggs, 
if you tell him all at once.” 

Newman left off rubbing his hands and assumed a thought¬ 
ful look. 

“ Depend upon it,” said Miss La Creevy, earnestly, “ if 
you are not very careful in breaking the truth to him, he will 
do some violence upon his uncle or one of these men that 
will bring some terrible calamity upon his own head and 
grief and sorrow to us all.” 

“ I never thought of that,” rejoined Newman, his counte¬ 
nance falling more and more. “ I came to ask you to receive 
his sister in case he brought her here, but-” 

“ But this is a matter of much greater importance,” inter¬ 
rupted Miss La Creevy, “ that you might have been sure of 


268 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


before you came, for the end of this nobody can foresee, unless 
you are very guarded and careful.” 

“What can I do?” cried Newman, scratching his head 
with an air of great vexation and perplexity. “ If he was 
to talk of shooting ’em all, I should be obliged to say, ‘ Cer¬ 
tainly. Serve ’em right.’ ” 

Miss La Creevy could not suppress a small shriek on hear¬ 
ing this, and instantly set about extorting a solemn pledge 
from Newman that he would use his utmost endeavours to 
pacify the wrath of Nicholas, which, after some demur, was 
conceded. They then consulted together on the safest and 
surest mode of communicating to Nicholas the circumstances 
which had rendered his presence necessary. 

“ He must have time to cool before he can possibly do 
anything,” said Miss La Creevy. “ That’s of the greatest 
consequence. He must not be told until late at night.” 

“ But he’ll be in town between six and seven this evening. 
I can’t keep it from him when he asks me.” 

“ Then you must go out, Mr. Noggs; you can easily have 
been kept away by business and must not return till nearly 
midnight.” 

“ Then he’ll come straight here,” retorted Newman. 

“ So I suppose,” observed Miss La Creevy; “ but he won’t 
find me at home, for I’ll go straight to the City the instant you 
leave me, make up matters with Mrs. Nickleby, and take 
her away to the theatre, so that he may not even know where 
his sister lives.” 

Upon further discussion, this appeared the safest and most 
feasible mode of proceeding that could possibly be adopted. 
Therefore it was finally determined that matters should be 
so arranged. Newman, after listening to many supple¬ 
mentary cautions and entreaties, took his leave of Miss La 
Creevy and trudged back to Golden Square, ruminating as 
he went upon a vast number of possibilities and impossibilities 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


269 


which crowded upon his brain and arose out of the conversa¬ 
tion that had just terminated. 


CHAPTER XIX 

L ONDON at last! ” cried Nicholas, throwing back his 
greatcoat and rousing Smike from a long nap. “ It 
seemed to me as though we should never reach it.” 

“ And yet you came along at a tidy pace, too,” observed 
the coachman, looking over his shoulder at Nicholas with no 
very pleasant expression. 

“ Ay, I know that, but I have been very anxious to be at 
my journey’s end, and that makes the way seem long.” 

Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn 
where the coach stopped, and repaired, without the delay 
of another moment, to the lodgings of Newman Noggs; for 
his anxiety and impatience had increased with every suc¬ 
ceeding minute, and were almost beyond control. 

There was a fire in Newman’s garret and a candle had been 
left burning; the floor was cleanly swept, the room was as 
comfortably arranged as such a room could be, and meat and 
drink were placed in order upon the table. Everything 
bespoke the affectionate care and attention of Newman 
Noggs, but Newman himself was not there. 

“ Do you know what time he will be home ? ” inquired 
Nicholas, tapping at the door of Newman’s front neighbour. 

“ Ah, Mr. Johnson!” said Crowl, presenting himself. 
“ Welcome, sir, — how well you’re looking! I never could 
have believed-” 

“ Pardon me — my question — I am extremely anxious, to 
know.” 

“ Why, he has a troublesome affair of business, and will not 
be home before twelve o’clock. He was very unwilling to 


270 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

go, I can tell ypu, but there was no help for it. However, he 
left word that you were to make yourself comfortable till he 
came back and that I was to entertain you, which I shall be 
very glad to do.” 

In proof of his readiness to exert himself for the general 
entertainment, Mr. Crowl drew a chair to the table, and help¬ 
ing him self plentifully to the cold meat, invited Nicholas and 
Smike to follow his example. 

Disappointed and uneasy, Nicholas could touch no food; 
so after he had seen Smike comfortably established at the 
table, he walked out and left Smike to detain Newman in case 
he returned first. 

As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook him¬ 
self straight to her house. Finding her from home, he 
debated within himself for some time whether he should go 
to his mother’s residence. Finally persuaded, however, that 
Newman would not have solicited him to return unless there 
was some strong reason which required his presence at home, 
he resolved to go there, and hastened eastwards with all speed. 

Mrs. Nickleby would not be at home, the girl said, until 
past twelve, or later. She believed Miss Nickleby was well, 
but she didn’t live at home now, nor did she come home except 
very seldom. She couldn’t say where she was stopping, but 
it was not at Madame Mantalini’s. She was sure of that. 

With his heart beating violently and apprehending he 
knew not what disaster, Nicholas returned to where he had 
left Smike. Newman had not been home. He wouldn’t be, 
till twelve o’clock; there was no chance of it. Was there 
no possibility of sending to fetch him if it were only for an 
instant, or forwarding to him one line of writing to which he 
might return a verbal reply? That was quite impracti¬ 
cable. He was not at Golden Square and probably had been 
sent to execute some commission at a distance. 

Nicholas tried to remain quietly where he was, but he felt 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


271 


so nervous and excited that he could not sit still. He seemed 
to be losing time unless he was moving. It was an absurd 
fancy, he knew, but he was wholly unable to resist it. So 
he took up his hat and rambled out again. 

He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets 
with hurried footsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings 
and apprehensions which he could not overcome. He passed 
into Hyde Park, now silent and deserted, and increased his 
rate of walking as if in hope of leaving his thoughts behind. 
They crowded upon him more thickly, however, especially 
the one idea that was always uppermost, that some stroke 
of ill-fortune must have occurred, so calamitous in its nature 
that all were fearful of disclosing it to him. The old question 
arose again and again — what could it be? Nicholas walked 
till he was weary, but was not one bit the*wiser; and indeed 
he came out of the park at last a great deal more confused 
and perplexed than he had gone into it. 

He had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink since early 
in the morning, and felt quite worn out and exhausted. As 
he returned languidly towards the point from which he had 
started, along one of the thoroughfares which lie between 
Park Lane and Bond Street, he passed a handsome hotel, 
before which he stopped mechanically, and walked into the 
coffee room. 

It was very handsomely furnished. The walls were orna¬ 
mented with the choicest specimens of French paper, enriched 
with a gilded cornice of elegant design. The floor was covered 
with a rich carpet; and two superb mirrors, one above the 
chimney piece and one at the opposite end of the room 
reaching from floor to ceiling, multiplied the other beauties 
and added new ones of their own to enhance the general 
effect. There was rather a noisy party of four gentlemen 
in a box by the fireplace, and only two other persons present 
_both elderly gentlemen, and both alone. 


272 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Observing all this in the first glance with which a stranger 
surveys a place that is new to him, Nicholas sat himself down 
in the box next to the noisy party, with his back towards 
them, took up a newspaper, and began to read. 

He had not read twenty lines, and was in truth half-dozing, 
when he was startled by the mention of his sister’s name. 
“ Little Kate Nickleby ” were the words that caught his ear. 
He raised his head in amazement, and as he did so, saw by 
the reflection in the opposite glass, that two of the party 
behind him had risen and were standing before the fire. 
“ It must have come from one of them,” thought Nicholas. 
He waited to hear more with a countenance of some indig¬ 
nation, for the tone of speech had been anything but re¬ 
spectful; and the appearance of the individual whom he 
presumed to have* been the speaker was coarse and swag¬ 
gering. 

This person was standing with his back to the fire, convers¬ 
ing with a younger man, who stood with his back to the 
company, wore his hat, and was adjusting his shirt collar. 
They spoke in whispers, now and then bursting into a loud 
laugh, but Nicholas could catch no repetition of the words, 
nor anything sounding at all like the words which had at¬ 
tracted his attention. 

At length the two resumed their seats, and more wine being 
ordered, the party grew louder in their mirth. Still there 
was no reference made to anybody with whom he was ac¬ 
quainted, and Nicholas became persuaded that his excited 
fanc} r had either imagined the sounds altogether or con¬ 
verted some other words into the name which had been so 
much in his thoughts. 

“ It is remarkable too,” thought Nicholas; “ if it had been 
‘ Kate ’■ or 1 Kate Nickleby,’ I should not have been so much 
surprised, but ‘ Little Kate Nickleby ’! ” 

At that instant — 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


273 


“ Little Kate Nickleby! ” cried the voice behind him. 

“ I was right,” muttered Nicholas, as the paper fell from 
his hand. “ And it was the man I supposed.” 

“ As there was a proper objection to drinking her in heel¬ 
taps, 1 well give her the first glass in the new magnum. Little 
Kate Nickleby! ” 

“ Little Kate Nickleby,” cried the other three. And the 
glasses were set down empty. 

Keenly alive to the tone and manner of this slight and 
careless mention of his sister’s name in a public place, Nicho¬ 
las fired at once; but he kept himself quiet by a great effort, 
and did not even turn his head. 

“The jade! She’s a true Nickleby — a worthy imitator 
of her old uncle Ralph — she hangs back to be more sought 
after — so does he; nothing to be got out of Ralph unless 
you follow him up, and then the money comes doubly wel¬ 
come, and the bargain doubly hard, for you’re impatient and 
he isn’t. Oh! infernal cunning.” 

“ Infernal cunning,” echoed two voices. 

“ I am afraid that the old woman has grown jea-a-lous, and 
locked her up. Upon my soul it looks like it,” said the 
younger man. 

“ If they quarrel and little Nickleby goes home to her 
mother, so much the better; I can do anything with the old 
lady. She’ll believe anything I tell her,” answered the other. 

“ Egad, that’s true. Ha, ha, ha! Poor deyvle! ” 

The laugh was taken up by the two voices which always 
came in together and became general at Mrs. Nickleby’s 
expense. Nicholas turned burning hot with rage, but 
he commanded himself for the moment, and waited to hear 
more. 

What he heard need not be repeated here. Suffice it that 
as the wine went round he heard enough to acquaint him 

i A small portion of liquor left in a glass after drinking. 


274 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

with the characters and designs of those whose conversation 
he overheard, to possess him with the full extent of Ralph s 
villainy, and the real reason of his own presence being re¬ 
quired in London. He heard all this and more. He heard his 
sister’s sufferings derided, and her virtuous conduct jeered at 
and brutally misconstrued; he heard her name bandied 
from mouth to mouth, and herself made the subject of 
coarse and insolent wagers, free speech, and licentious 
jesting. 

The man who had spoken first led the conversation and 
indeed almost engrossed it, being only stimulated from time 
to time by some slight observation from one or other of his 
companions. To him then Nicholas addressed himself when 
he was sufficiently composed to stand before the party and 
force the words from his parched and scorching throat. 

“ Let me have a word with you, sir.” 

“ With me, sir? ” retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him 
in disdainful surprise. 

“ I said with you.” 

“A mysterious stranger, upon my soul! ” exclaimed Sir 
Mulberry, raising his wine glass to his lips and looking round 
upon his friends. 

“ Will you step apart with me for a few minutes, or do 
you refuse ? ” 

Sir Mulberry merely paused in the act of drinking and 
bade him either name his business or leave the table. 

Nicholas drew a card from his pocket and threw it before 
him. 

“ There, sir; my business you will guess.” 

A momentary expression of astonishment, not unmixed 
with some confusion, appeared in the face of Sir Mulberry as 
he read the name; but he subdued it in an instant and, tossing 
the card to Lord Frederick Verisopht, who sat opposite, drew 
a toothpick from a glass before him and very leisurely ap¬ 
plied it to his mouth. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 275 

“Your name and address?” said Nicholas, turning paler 
as his passion kindled. 

“ I shall give you neither.” 

“ If there is a gentleman in this party,” said Nicholas, 
looking round and scarcely able to make his white lips form 
the words, “ he will acquaint me with the name and residence 
of this man.” 

There was a dead silence. 

“ I am the brother of the young lady who has been the 
subject of conversation here. I denounce this person as a liar 
and impeach him as a coward. If he has a friend here, he 
will save him the disgrace of the paltry attempt to conceal 
his name — an utterly useless one — for I will find it out, 
nor leave him until I have.” 

Sir Mulberry looked at him contemptuously and, address¬ 
ing his companions, said — 

“Let the fellow talk. I have nothing serious to say to 
boys of his station; and his pretty sister shall save him a 
broken head, if he talks till midnight.” 

“You are a base and spiritless scoundrel, and shall be 
proclaimed so to the world. I will know you; I will follow 
you home if you walk the streets till morning.” 

Sir Mulberry’s hand involuntarily closed upon the decanter, 
and he seemed for an instant about to launch it at the head 
of his challenger. But he only filled his glass and laughed in 
derision. 

Nicholas sat himself down, directly opposite to this man 
and, summoning the waiter, said, 

“ Do you know that person’s name? ” 

Sir Mulberry laughed again, and two voices which had 
always spoken together, echoed the laugh, but rather feebly. 

“ That gentleman, sir? ” replied the waiter, who, no doubt, 
knew his cue and answered with just as little respect and just 
as much impertinence as he could safely show: no, sir, I 
do not, sir.” 


276 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Here, you, sir! ” cried Sir Mulberry, as the man was 
retiring. “ Do you know that person’s name.” 

“Name, sir? No, sir.” 

“ Then you’ll find it there,” said Sir Mulberry, throwing 
Nicholas’s card towards him, “ and when you have made 
yourself master of it, put that piece of pasteboard in the 
fire.” 

The man grinned, and, looking doubtfully at Nicholas, 
compromised the matter by sticking the card in the chimney 
glass. Having done this, he retired. Nicholas folded his 
arms, and, biting his lip, sat perfectly quiet, expressing by 
his manner the determination of following Sir Mulberry home. 

It was evident from the tone in which the younger mem¬ 
ber of the party appeared to remonstrate with his friend that 
he objected to this course of proceeding and urged him to 
comply with the request which Nicholas had made. Sir 
Mulberry, however, who Was not quite sober and who was 
in a sullen and dogged state of obstinacy, soon silenced his 
weak young friend and seemed to insist on being left alone. 
However this might have been, the young gentleman and 
the two who had always spoken together actually rose to go 
after a short interval and presently retired, leaving their 
friend alone with Nicholas. 

It will be very readily supposed that to one in the condi¬ 
tion of Nicholas the minutes appeared to move with leaden 
wings indeed and that their progress did not seem the more 
rapid from the monotonous ticking of a French clock or 
the shrill sound of its little bell which told the quarters. 
But there he sat; and in his old seat on the opposite side of 
the room reclined Sir Mulberry Hawk, with his legs upon 
the cushion, and his handkerchief thrown negligently over 
his knees, finishing his bottle of claret with the utmost cool¬ 
ness and indifference. 

Thus they remained in perfect silence for upwards of an 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


277 


hour — Nicholas would have thought for three hours at 
least, but that the little bell had only gone four times. Twice 
or thrice he looked angrily and impatiently round; but Sir 
Mulberry was in the same attitude, putting his glass to his lips 
from time to time and looking vacantly at the wall, as if he 
were wholly ignorant of the presence of any living person. 

At length he yawned, stretched himself, and rose, walked 
coolly to the glass and, having surveyed himself therein, 
turned round and honoured Nicholas with a long and con¬ 
temptuous stare. Nicholas stared again with right good 
will; Sir Mulberry shrugged his shoulders, smiled slightly, 
rang the bell, and ordered the waiter to help him on with his 
greatcoat. 

The man did so, and held the door open. 

“ Don’t wait,” said Sir Mulberry, and they were alone 
again. 

Sir Mulberry took several turns up and down the room, 
whistling carelessly all the time, stopped to finish the last 
glass of claret which he had poured out a few minutes before, 
walked again, put on his hat, adjusted it by the glass, drew 
on his gloves, and, at last, walked slowly out. Nicholas, who 
had been fuming and chafing until he was nearly wild, darted 
from his seat, and followed him so closely that before the 
door had swung upon its hinges after Sir Mulberry’s passing 
out they stood side by side in the street together. 

There was a private cabriolet in waiting. The groom 
opened the apron and jumped out to the horse’s head. 

“ Will you make yourself known to me? ” asked Nicholas in 
a suppressed voice. 

“ No,” replied the other fiercely and confirming the refusal 
with an oath. “ No.” 

“ If you trust to your horse’s speed, you will find yourself 
mistaken. I will accompany you. By heaven I will, if I 
hang on to the footboard! ” 


,278 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ You shall be horsewhipped if you do.” 

“ You are a villain.” 

“ You are an errand boy for aught I know.” 

“ I am the son of a country gentleman, your equal in birth 
and education and your superior, I trust, in everything be¬ 
sides. I tell you again, Miss Nickleby is my sister. Will 
you or will you not answer for your unmanly and brutal 
conduct ? ” 

“To a proper champion — yes. To you — no,” returned 
Sir Mulberry, taking the reins in his hand. “ Stand out of 
the way, dog. William, let go her head.” 

“ You had better not,” cried Nicholas, springing on the 
step as Sir Mulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins. 
“ He has no command over the horse, mind. You shall not 
go — you shall not, I swear, till you have told me who you 
are.” 

The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high- 
spirited animal and thoroughbred, plunged so violently that 
he could scarcely hold her. 

“ Leave go, I tell you! ” thundered his master. 

The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as 
though it would dash the carriage into a thousand pieces, 
but Nicholas, blind to all sense of danger, and conscious of 
nothing but his fury, still maintained his place and his hold 
upon the reins. 

“Will you unclasp your hand?” 

“ Will you tell me who you are? ” 

“ No! ” 

“No!” 

In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it these 
words were exchanged, and Sir Mulberry, shortening his 
whip, applied it furiously to the head and shoulders of 
Nicholas. It was broken in the struggle; Nicholas gained 
the heavy handle, and with it laid open one side of his 


279 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

antagonist’s face from the eye to the lip. He saw the gash, 
knew that the mare had darted off at a wild mad gallop; a 
hundred lights danced in his eyes, and he felt himself flung 
violently upon the ground. 

He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly, 
roused by the loud shouts of the men who were tearing up 
the street, and screaming to those ahead to clear the way. 
He was conscious of a torrent of people rushing quickly by 
— looking up, could discry the cabriolet whirled along the 
foot pavement with frightful rapidity — then heard a loud 
crv, the smashing of some heavy body, and the breaking of 
gl ass — an d then the crowd closed in in the distance, and he 
could see or hear no more. 

The general attention had been entirely directed from him¬ 
self to the person in the carriage, and he was quite alone. 
Rightly judging that under such circumstances it would be 
madness to follow, he turned down a by-street in search of the 
nearest coach stand, finding after a minute or two that he 
was reeling like a drunken man, and aware for the first time 
of a stream of blood that was trickling down his face and 
breast. 


CHAPTER XX 

S MIKE and Newman Noggs sat before the fire, listening 
anxiously to every footstep on the stairs, and the slightest 
sound that stirred within the house, for the approach of 
Nicholas. Time had worn on, and it was growing late. He 
had promised to be back in an hour, and his prolonged absence 
began to excite considerable alarm. 

At length a coach was heard to stop, and Newman ran out 
to light Nicholas up the stairs. Beholding him in the trim 
described at the conclusion of the last chapter, he stood 
aghast in wonder and consternation. 


280 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Don’t be alarmed/’ said Nicholas, hurrying him back 
into the room. “There is no harm done beyond what a 
basin of water can repair.” 

“No harm! ” cried Newman, passing his hands hastily 
over the back and arms of Nicholas, as if to assure himself 
that he had broken no bones. “ What have you been doing ? ” 

“I know all; I have heard a part and guessed the rest. 
But before I remove one jot of these stains, I must hear the 
whole from you. My resolution is taken. Now, my good 
friend, speak out; for the time for any palliation or conceal¬ 
ment is past, and nothing will avail Ralph Nickleby now.” 

“Your clothes are torn in several places; you walk lame, 
and I am sure are suffering pain. Let me see to your hurts 
first.” 

“ I have no hurts to see to beyond a little soreness and 
stiffness that will soon pass off. But if I had fractured every 
limb and still preserved my senses, you should not bandage 
one till you had told me what I have the right to know. 
Come,” giving his hand to Noggs. “ You had a sister of 
your own, you told me once, who died before you fell into 
misfortune. Now think of her, and tell me, Newman.” 

“Yes, I will, I will. I’ll tell you the whole truth.” 

Newman did so. Nicholas nodded his head from time to 
time, as it corroborated the particulars he had already 
gleaned; but he fixed his eyes upon the fire and did not look 
round once. 

His recital ended, Newman insisted upon his young friend’s 
stripping off his coat and allowing whatever injuries he had 
received to be properly tended. Nicholas, after some op¬ 
position, at length consented and, while some pretty severe 
bruises on his arms and shoulders were being rubbed with 
remedies which Newman borrowed from the different lodgers, 
related in what manner they had been received. 

Nicholas arranged with Newman for his mother’s imme- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


281 


diately leaving her present residence, and also for sending 
Miss La Creevy to break the intelligence to her. He then 
wrapped himself in Smike’s greatcoat and went with him to 
the inn where they were to pass the night, and where (after 
writing a few lines to Ralph the delivery of which was to be 
intrusted to Newman next day) he endeavored to obtain the 
repose of which he stood so much in need. 

Although Nicholas experienced some pain on first awaken¬ 
ing next morning, he sprang out of bed as the clock struck 
seven, with very little difficulty, and was soon as much on the 
alert as if nothing had occurred. 

Merely looking into Smike’s room and telling him that 
Newman Noggs would call for him very shortly, Nicholas 
descended into the street and, calling a hackney coach, bade 
the man drive to Mrs. Witterly’s, according to the direction 
which Newman had given him on the previous night. 

It was a quarter to eight when they reached her home. 
Nicholas began to fear that no one might be stirring at that 
early hour, when he was relieved by the sight of a female 
servant, employed in cleaning the door steps. By this 
functionary he was referred to the doubtful page, who ap¬ 
peared with dishevelled hair and a very warm and glossy face, 
as of a page who had just got out of bed. 

By this young gentleman he was informed that Miss 
Nickleby was then taking her morning’s walk in the gardens 
before the house. On the question being asked whether he 
could go and find her, the page desponded and thought not; 
being stimulated with a shilling, the page grew hopeful and 
thought he could. 

“Say to Miss Nickleby that her brother is here and in 
great haste to see her.” 

The plated buttons disappeared with an alacrity most un¬ 
usual to them, and Nicholas paced the room in a state of 
feyerish agitation which made the delay even of a minute 


282 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

insupportable. He soon heard a light footstep which he 
well knew, and before he could advance to meet her, Kate 
had fallen on his neck and was crying uncontrollably for a 
few moments as she clung to him. 

“ My darling girl,” said Nicholas as he embraced her, 

“ how pale you are! ” 

“ I have been so unhappy here, dear brother,” sobbed poor 
Kate, “ so very, very miserable. Do not leave me here, 
dear Nicholas, or I shall die of a broken heart.” 

“ I will leave you nowhere, never again, Kate,” said 
Nicholas, greatly affected in spite of himself as he folded her to 
his heart. “ Tell me that I acted for the best. Tell me that we 
parted because I feared to bring misfortune on your head, that 
it was a trial to me no less than to yourself, and that if I did 
wrong it was in ignorance of the world and unknowingly. 

“ Why should I tell you what we know so well? Nicholas 
— dear Nicholas — how can you give way! ” for he could 
not control his voice and for a moment seemed overcome with 
grief. 

This question was most opportunely put, for at that 
instant Mr. Witterly walked in, and to him Kate introduced 
her brother, who at once announced his purpose. They had 
both become calm at the entrance of this man. 

“ The quarter’s notice,” said Mr. Witterly, with the gravity 
of a man on the right side, “ is not yet half expired. There¬ 
fore -” 

“ Therefore,” interposed Nicholas, “ the quarter’s salary 
must be lost, sir. You will excuse this extreme haste, but 
circumstances require that I should immediately remove my 
sister, and I have not a moment’s time to lose. Whatever 
she brought here I will send for, if you will allow me, in the 
course of the day.” 

Mr. Witterly bowed, but offered no opposition to Kate’s 
immediate departure; with which, indeed, he was rather 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


283 


gratified than otherwise, Dr. Tumley Snuffim having given 
it as his opinion that she rather disagreed with Mrs Wit- 
terly’s constitution. 

“ With regard to the trifle of salary that is due,” said Mr. 

Witterly, “ I will-” here he was interrupted by a violent 

fit of coughing — “I will — owe it to Miss Nickleby.” 

“ If you please,” said Nicholas. And once more offering 
a hurried apology for so sudden a departure, he hurried Kate 
into the vehicle and bade the man drive with all speed into 
the City. 

Nicholas sent Kate upstairs a few minutes before him, 
that his unlooked-for appearance might not alarm his 
mother, and when the way had been paved, presented him¬ 
self with much duty and affection. • Newman had not been 
idle, for there was a little cart at the door, and their few 
belongings were being hurried out already. 

Now, Mrs. Nickleby was not the sort of person to be 
told anything in a hurry, or rather to comprehend anything 
on a short notice. Wherefore, although the good lady had 
been subjected to a full hour’s preparation by little Miss La 
Creevy, and was now addressed in most lucid terms both by 
Nicholas and his sister, she was in a state of singular be¬ 
wilderment and confusion and could by no means be made to 
comprehend the necessity of such hurried proceedings. 

“ Why don’t you ask your uncle, my dear Nicholas, what 
he can possibly mean by it? ” 

“ My dear mother, the time for talking has gone by. There 
is but one step to take, and that is to cast him off with the 
scorn and indignation he deserves. Your own honour and 
good name demand that. After the discovery of his vile 
proceedings, you should not be beholden to him one hour, 
even for the shelter of these bare walls.” 

“ To be sure,” said Mrs. Nickleby, crying bitterly, “he 
is a brute, a monster; and the walls are very bare, and want 


284 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

painting too, and I have had this ceiling white-washed at 
the expense of eighteenpence, which is a very distressing thing, 
considering that it is so much gone into your uncle’s pocket. 
I never could have believed it — never.” 

“ Nor I, nor anybody else.” 

“ Lord bless my life! To think that that Sir Mulberry 
Hawk should be such an abandoned wretch as Miss La 
Creevy says he is, Nicholas, my dear, when I was congratu¬ 
lating myself every day on his being an admirer of our dear 
Kate’s, and thinking what a thing it would be for the family 
if he was to become connected with us, and use his interest 
to get you some profitable government place. There are 
very good places to be got about the court, I know; for a 
friend of ours (Mr. Cropley, at Exeter, my dear Kate, you 
recollect) he had one, and I know that it was the chief part 
of his duty to wear silk stockings, and a bagwig like a black 
watch pocket; and to think that it should come to this after 
all — 0 h, dear, dear, it’s enough to kill one, that it is.” With 
which expressions of sorrow, Mrs. Nickleby gave fresh vent 
to her grief and wept piteously. 

As Nicholas and his sister were by this time compelled 
to superintend the removal of the few articles of furniture, 
Miss La Creevy devoted herself to the consolation of the 
matron and observed with great kindness of manner that she 
must really make an effort and cheer up. 

“ Oh, I dare say, Miss La Creevy,” returned Mrs. Nickleby, 
with a petulance not unnatural in her unhappy circumstances, 
“ it’s very easy to say cheer up, but if you had as many 
occasions to cheer up as I have had — and there,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby, stopping short, “think of Mr. Pyke and Mr. 
Pluck, two of the most perfect gentlemen that ever lived, 
what am I to say to them — what can I say to them ? ; Why, 
if I was to say to them, ‘ I’m told your friend Sir Mulberry 
is a base wretch,’ they’d laugh at me.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


285 


“ They will laugh no more at us, I take it,” said Nicholas, 
advancing. “ Come, mother, there is a coach at the door, 
and until Monday, at all events, we will return to our old 
quarters.” 

“ Where everything is ready, and a hearty welcome into 
the bargain,” added Miss La Creevy. “ Now, let me go 
with you downstairs.” 

But Mrs. Nickleby was not to be so easily moved. First 
she insisted on going upstairs to see that nothing had been 
left, and then on going downstairs to see that everything had 
been taken away; and when she was getting into the coach, 
she had a vision of a forgotten coffee-pot by the back- 
kitchen hob and, after she was shut in, a dismal recollection 
of a green umbrella behind some unknown door. At last 
Nicholas, in a condition of absolute despair, ordered the 
coachman to drive aw^ay, and in the jerk of a sudden starting, 
Mrs. Nickleby lost a shilling among the straw, which for¬ 
tunately confined her attention to the coach until it was too 
late to remember anything else. 

Having seen everything safely out, discharged the servant, 
and locked the door, Nicholas jumped into a cabriolet and 
drove to a place near Golden Square where he had appointed 
to meet Noggs, and so quickly had everything been done that 
it was barely half-past nine when he reached the place of 
meeting. 

“ Here is the letter for Ralph,” said Nicholas, “ and here 
the key. When you come to me this evening, not a word of 
last night. Ill news travels fast, and they will know it soon 
enough. Have you heard if he was much hurt.” 

Newman shook his head. 

“ I will ascertain that, myself, without loss of time.” 

“ You had better take some rest. You are fevered and ill,” 
said Noggs. 

Nicholas waved his hand carelessly, and concealing the 


286 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

indisposition he really felt, now that the excitement which 
had sustained him was over, took a hurried farewell of New¬ 
man Noggs, and left him. 

Newman was not three minutes’ walk from Golden Square, 
but in the course of that three minutes he took the letter 
out of his hat and put it in again twenty times at least. 
First the front, then the back, then the sides, then the super¬ 
scription, then the seal were objects of Newman’s admiration. 
Then he held it at arm’s length as if to take in the whole at 
one delicious survey, and then he rubbed his hands, in a 
perfect ecstasy with his commission. 

He reached the office, hung his hat on the accustomed 
peg, laid the letter and key upon the desk, and waited im¬ 
patiently until Ralph Nickleby should appear. After a few 
minutes, the well-known creaking of his boots was heard on 
the stairs, and then the bell rang. 

“ Has the post come in? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Any other letters ? ” 

“ One.” Newman eyed him closely, and laid it on his 
desk with the key. 

“ What’s this? ” asked Ralph, taking up the key. 

“ Left with the letter; — a boy brought them — quarter of 
an hour ago, or less.” 

Ralph opened the letter and read: 

You are known to me now. There are no reproaches I 
could heap upon your head which would carry with them 
one thousandth part of the grovelling shame that this 
assurance will awaken even in your breast. 

Your brother’s widow and her orphan child spurn the 
shelter of your roof and shun you with disgust and loathing. 
Your kindred renounce you, for they know no shame but 
the ties of blood which bind them in name to you. 

You are an old man, and I leave you to the grave. May 
every recollection of your life cling to your false heart 
and cast their darkness on your death bed. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


287 


Ralph Nickleby read this letter twice and, frowning heavily, 
fell into a fit of musing. The paper fluttered from his hand 
and dropped upon the floor, but he clasped his fingers, as if 
he held it still. 

Suddenly, he started from his seat and, thrusting it all 
crumpled into his pocket, turned furiously to Newman Noggs, 
as though to ask him why he lingered. But Newman stood 
unmoved, with his back towards him, following up, with the 
worn and blackened stump of an old pen some figures in an 
interest table which was pasted against the wall, and appar¬ 
ently quite abstracted from every other object. 


CHAPTER XXI 


HAT a demnition long time you have kept me ringing 



at this confounded old cracked teakettle of a bell, 


every tinkle of which is enough to throw a strong man into 
blue convulsions, upon my life and soul, oh demmit,” said 
Mr. Mantalini to Newman Noggs, scraping his boots, as he 
spoke, on Ralph Nickleby’s scraper. 

“ I didn’t hear the bell more than once,” replied Newman. 

“Then you are most immensely and outrageously deaf, 
as deaf as a demnition post.” 

Mr. Mantalini had got by this time into the passage, and 
was making his way to the door of Ralph’s office with very 
little ceremony, when Newman interposed his body and, 
hinting that Mr. Nickleby was unwilling to be disturbed, 
inquired whether the client’s business was of a pressing 
nature. 

“It is most demnebly particular. It is to melt some 
scraps of dirty paper into bright, shining, chinking, tinkling, 
demd mint sauce.” 

Newman uttered a significant grunt and, taking Mr. Man- 


288 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

talini’s proffered card, limped with it into his master s 
office. As he thrust his head in at the door, he saw that 
Ralph had resumed the thoughtful posture into which he had 
fallen after perusing his nephew’s letter, and that he seemed 
to have been reading it again, as he once more held it open 
in his hand. The glance was but momentary, for Ralph, 
being disturbed, turned to demand the cause of the interrup¬ 
tion. 

As Newman stated it, the cause himself swaggered into 
the room and, grasping Ralph’s horny hand with uncommon 
affection, vowed that he had never seen him looking so well 
in all his life. 

“ There is quite a bloom upon your demd countenance,” 
said Mr. Mantalini, seating himself unbidden and arranging 
his hair and whiskers. “You look quite juvenile and jolly, 
demmit! ” 

“ We are alone,” returned Ralph, tartly. “ What do you 
want with me ? ” 

“Good!” cried Mr. Mantalini, displaying his teeth. 
“What did I want! Ha, ha! Very good. What did I 
want. Ha, ha. Oh dem! ” 

“ What do you want, man? ” demanded Ralph, sternly. 

“ Demnition discount,” returned Mr. Mantalini, with a 
grin, and shaking his head waggishly. 

“ Money is scarce.” 

“ Demd scarce, or I shouldn’t want it.” 

“ The times are bad, and one scarcely knows whom to 
trust,” continued Ralph. “ I don’t want to do business just 
now; in fact, I would rather not; but as you are a friend — 
how many bills have you there ? ” 

“ Two.” 

“ What is the gross amount? ” 

“ Demd trifling. Five-and-seventy.” 

“ And the dates ? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


289 


“ Two months, and four.” 

“I’ll do them for you — mind, for you; I wouldn’t for 
many people — for five-and-twenty pounds,” said Ralph, 
deliberately. 

“ Oh demmit! ” cried Mr. Mantalini, whose face lengthened 
considerably at this handsome proposal. 

“ Why, that leaves you fifty. What would you have? 
Let me see the names.” 

“ You are so demd hard, Nickleby.” 

“ Let me see the names,” replied Ralph, impatiently ex¬ 
tending his hand for the bills. “ Well! They are not sure, 
but safe enough. Do you consent to the terms, and will 
you take the money? I don’t want you to do so. I would 
rather you didn’t.” 

“ Demmit, Nickleby, can’t you-” 

“ No, I can’t. Will you take the money — down, mind; 
no delay, no going into the City and pretending to negotiate 
with some other party who has no existence and never had. 
Is it a bargain, or is it not? ” 

Ralph pushed some papers from him as he spoke and 
carelessly rattled his cash box, as though by mere accident. 
The sound was too much for Mr. Mantalini. He closed 
the bargain directly it reached his ears, and Ralph told the 
money out upon the table. 

Scarcely had he done so, and Mr. Mantalini had not yet 
gathered it all up, when a ring was heard at the bell, and 
immediately afterwards Newman ushered in no less a person 
than Madame Mantalini, at sight of whom Mr. Mantalini 
evinced considerable discomposure, and swept the cash into 
his pocket with remarkable alacrity. 

“ Oh, you are here,” said Madame Mantalini, tossing her 
head. 

“ Yes, my life and soul, I am,” replied her husband, drop¬ 
ping on his knees, and pouncing with kittenlike playfulness 


290 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


upon a stray sovereign. “ I am here, my soul’s delight, upon 
Tom Tiddler’s ground, picking up the demnition gold and 
silver.” 

“ I am ashamed of you,” said Madame Mantalini, with 
much indignation. 

“Ashamed? Of me, my joy? It knows it is talking 
demd charming sweetness, but naughty fibs. It knows it 
is not ashamed of its own popolorum tibby.” 

Madame Mantalini only looked scornful in reply, and, 
turning to Ralph, begged him to excuse her intrusion. 

“ Which is entirely attributable,” said madame, “ to the 
gross misconduct and most improper behaviour of Mr. 
Mantalini.” 

“ Of me, my essential juice of pineapple! ” 

“ Of you,” returned his wife. “ But I will not swallow it. 
I will not submit to be ruined by the extravagance and 
profligacy of any man. I call Mr. Nickleby to witness the 
course I intend to pursue with you.” 

“ Pray don’t call me to witness anything, ma’am,” said 
Ralph. “ Settle it between yourselves, settle it between 
yourselves.” 

“ No, but I must beg you as a favour to hear me give him 
notice of what it is my fixed intention to do — my fixed in¬ 
tention, sir,” repeated Madame Mantalini, darting an angry 
look at her husband. 

“ Will she call me 1 sir ’! Me who dote upon her with the 
demdest ardour! She, who coils her fascinations round me 
like a pure and angelic rattlesnake! It will be all up with 
my feelings; she will throw me into a demd state.” 

“ Don’t talk of feelings, sir. You don’t consider mine.” 

“ I do not consider yours, my soul! ” 

“ No.” 

And notwithstanding various blandishments on the part of 
Mr. Mantalini, Madame Mantalini still said no, and said 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 291 

it too with such determined and resolute ill temper that Mr. 
Mantalini was clearly taken aback. 

“ His extravagance, Mr. Nicklebv, is beyond all bounds.” 

“ I should scarcely have supposed it.” 

“ I assure you, Mr. Nickleby, however, that it is. It 
makes me miserable. I am under constant apprehensions 
and in constant difficulty. And even this,” wiping her eyes, 
“ is not the worst. He took some papers of value out of my 
desk this morning without asking my permission.” 

Mr. Mantalini groaned slightly and buttoned his trousers 
pocket. 

“ I am obliged since our last misfortunes to pay Miss Knag 
a great deal of money for having her name in the business, 
and I really cannot afford to encourage him in all his waste¬ 
fulness. As I have no doubt that he came straight here, Mr. 
Nickleby, to convert the papers I have spoken of, into money, 
and as you have assisted us very often before, I wish you to 
know the determination at which his conduct has compelled 
me to arrive.” 

Mr. Mantalini groaned once more from behind his wife’s 
bonnet, and fitting a sovereign into one of his eyes, winked 
the other at Ralph. Having achieved this performance with 
great dexterity, he whipped the coin into his pocket, and 
groaned again with increased penitence. 

“ I have made up my mind to allowance him.” 

“ To do what, my joy? ” inquired Mr. Mantalini, but his 
wife did not answer him. She was looking at Ralph and 
prudently abstaining from the slightest glance at her hus¬ 
band, lest his many graces should induce her to falter in her 
resolution. 

She repeated, “ I am going to put him upon a fixed al¬ 
lowance; and I say that if he has a hundred and twenty 
pounds a year for his clothes and pocket money, he may 
consider himself a very fortunate man.” 


292 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Mr. Mantalini waited to hear the amount; but when it 
reached his ears, he cast his hat and cane upon the floor, 
and drawing out his pocket handkerchief, gave vent to his 
feelings in a dismal moan. 

“ Demnition! But no. It is a demd horrid dream. 
It is not reality. No! ” 

Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr. Mantalini 
closed his eyes and waited patiently till such time as he 
should wake up. 

“ A very judicious arrangement,” observed Ralph with a 
sneer, “ if your husband will keep within it, ma’am — as no 
doubt he will.” 

“ Demmit! it is a horrid reality. She is sitting there before 
me. There is the graceful outline of her form; it cannot be 
mistaken — there is nothing like it. The two countesses had 
no outlines at all, a$d the dowager’s was a demd outline. 
Why is she so excruciatingly beautiful that I cannot be 
angry with her, even now ? ” 

“You have brought it all upon yourself, Alfred,” still 
reproachfully, but in a softened tone. 

“lama demd villain! I will fill my pockets with change 
for a sovereign in halfpence and drown myself in the Thames; 
but I will not be angry with her even then, for I will put a 
note in the twopenny post as I go along to tell her where the 
body is. She will be a lovely widow. I shall be a body. 
Some handsome women will cry; she will laugh demnebly.” 

“ Alfred, you cruel, cruel creature,” said Madame Man¬ 
talini, sobbing at the dreadful picture. 

“ She calls me cruel — me — me — who for her sake will 
become a demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body! ” 

“ You know it almost breaks my heart, even to hear you 
talk of such a thing.” 

“ Can I live to be mistrusted? Have I cut my heart into 
a demd extraordinary number of little pieces and given them 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


293 


all away, one after another, to the same little engrossing 
demnition captivator, and can I live to be suspected by her! 
Demmit, no, I can’t.” 

“Ask Mr. Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned 
is not a proper one,” reasoned Madame Mantalini. 

“ I don’t want any sum. I shall require no demd allow¬ 
ance. I will be a body.” 

On this repetition of Mr. Mantalini’s fatal threat, Madame 
Mantalini wrung her hands and implored the interference 
of Ralph Nickleby; and after a great quantity of tears and 
talking and several attempts on the part of Mr. Mantalini 
to reach the door, preparatory to straightway committing 
violence upon himself, that gentleman was prevailed upon, 
with difficulty, to promise that he wouldn’t be a body. This 
great point attained, Madame Mantalini argued the question 
of the allowance, and Mr. Mantalini did the same, taking 
occasion to show that he could live with uncommon satisfac¬ 
tion upon bread and water, and go clad in rags, but that he 
could not support existence with the additional burden of 
being mistrusted by the object of his most devoted and dis¬ 
interested affection. This brought fresh tears into Madame 
Mantalini’s eyes, having just begun to open to some few of 
the demerits of Mr. Mantalini, but they were only open a 
very little way, and could be easily closed again. The result 
was that, without quite giving up the allowance question, 
Madame Mantalini postponed its further consideration; and 
Ralph saw clearly enough that Mr. Mantalini had gained a 
fresh lease on his easy life and that, for some time longer at 
all* events, his degradation and downfall were postponed. 

“But it will come soon enough,” thought Ralph; “all 
love — bah! That I should use the cant of boys and girls 
— is fleeting enough; though that which has its sole root in 
the admiration of a whiskered face like that of yonder baboon 
perhaps lasts the longest, as it originates in the greater 


294 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


blindness and is fed by vanity. Meantime the fools bring 
grist to my mill, so let them live out their day, and the longer 
it is, the better.” 

These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby, 
as sundry small caresses and endearments, supposed to be 
unseen, were exchanged between the objects of his thoughts. 

“ If you have nothing more to say, my dear, to Mr. 
Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini, “we will take our 
leave. I am sure we have detained him much too long 
already.” 

Mr. Mantalini answered, in the first instance, by tapping 
Madame Mantalini several times on the nose, and then by re¬ 
marking, in words, that he had nothing more to say. 

“ Demmit! I have, though,” he added, almost immedi¬ 
ately, drawing Ralph into a corner. “ Here’s an affair about 
your friend Sir Mulberry. Such a demd extraordinary out- 
of-the-way kind of thing as never was.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ Don’t you know, demmit ? ” 

“ I see by the paper that he was thrown from his cabriolet 
last night and severely injured and that his life is in some 
danger, but I see nothing extraordinary in that. Accidents 
are not miraculous events when men live hard and drive after 
dinner.” 

“Whew! ” cried Mr. Mantalini in a long shrill whistle. 
“ Then don’t you know how it was ? ” 

“ Not unless it was as I have just supposed,” replied 
Ralph, shrugging his shoulders carelessly, as if to give his 
questioner to understand that he had no curiosity upon the 
subject. 

“ Demmit, you amaze me! ” 

Ralph shrugged his shoulders again, as if it were no great 
feat to amaze Mr. Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at 
the face of Newman Noggs, which had several times appeared 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


295 


behind a couple of panes of glass in the room door; it being 
part of Newman’s duty, when unimportant people called, 
to make various feints of supposing that the bell had rung 
for him to show them out, by way of gentle hint to such 
visitors that it was time to go. 

“ Don’t you know,” said Mr. Mantalini, taking Ralph by 
the button, “ that it wasn’t an accident at all, but a demd, 
furious, manslaughter attack made upon him by your 
nephew ? ” 

“ What! ” snarled Ralph, clenching his fists and turning 
a livid white. 

“Demmit, Nickleby, you’re as great a tiger as he is,” 
said Mantalini, alarmed at these demonstrations. 

“Go on, tell me what you mean. What is this story? 
Who told you ? Speak, do you hear me ? ” 

“ Gad, Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini, retreating towards 
his wife, “ what a demneble fierce old evil genius you are! 
You’re enough to frighten my life and soul out of her little 
delicious wits — flying all at once into such a blazing, ravag¬ 
ing, raging passion as never was, demmit! ” 

“ Pshaw,” rejoined Ralph, forcing a smile. “ It is but 
manner.” 

“ It is a demd uncomfortable, private-madhouse-sort of 
manner,” said Mr. Mantalini, picking up his cane. 

Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from whom 
Mr. Mantalini had derived his information. 

“ From Pyke. And a demd fine, pleasant, gentlemanly 
dog it is.” 

“ And what said he? ” asked Ralph, knitting his brows. 

“ That it happened this way — that your nephew met him 
at a coffeehouse, fell upon him with the most demneble 
ferocity, followed him to his cab, swore he would ride home 
with him, if he rode upon the horse’s back or hooked himself 
on to the horse’s tail, smashed his countenance, which is a 


296 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

demd fine countenance in its natural state, frightened the 
horse, pitched out Sir Mulberry and himself, and-” 

“ And was killed? ” interposed Ralph with gleaming eyes. 
“ Was he? Is he dead?” 

Mantalini shook his head. 

“ Ugh,” said Ralph, turning away. “ Then he has done 
nothing. Stay!” he added, looking around again. “He 
broke a leg or an arm, or put his shoulder out, or fractured 
his collar bone, or ground a rib or two? His neck was saved 
for the halter, but he got some painful and slow-healing 
injury for his trouble ? Did he ? You must have heard that, 
at least.” 

“ No,” rejoined Mantalini, shaking his head again. “ Un¬ 
less he was dashed into such little pieces that they blew 
away, he wasn’t hurt, for he went off as quiet and comfortable 
as — as — as demnition,” said Mr. Mantalini, rather at a loss 
for a simile. 

“ And what,” said Ralph, hesitating a little, “ what was the 
cause of the quarrel? ” 

“ You are the demdest, knowing hand,” replied Mr. Man¬ 
talini, in an admiring tone, “ the cunningest, rummest, super- 
lativest old fox — oh dem! — to pretend now not to know 
that it was the little bright-eyed niece — the softest, sweetest, 
prettiest-” 

“Alfred! ” interposed Madame Mantalini. 

“ She is always right,” rejoined Mr. Mantalini, soothingly; 
“ and when she says it is time to go, it is time, and go she 
shall; and when she walks alorig the streets with her own 
tulip, the women shall say with envy, she has got a demd 
fine husband; and the men shall say with rapture, he has 
got a demd fine wife; and they shall both be right and neither 
wrong, upon my life and soul — oh demmit! ” 

With which remarks, and many more no less intellectual 
and to the purpose, Mr. Mantalini kissed the fingers of his 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 297 

gloves to Ralph Nickleby, and drawing his lady’s arm through 
his, led her mincingly away. 

“ So, so,” muttered Ralph, dropping into his chair, “ this 
devil is loose again and thwarting me, as he was born to do, 
at every turn. He told me once there should be a day of 
reckoning between us, sooner or later. I’ll make him a true 
prophet, for it shall surely come.” 

“Are you at home?” asked Newman, suddenly popping 
in his head. 

“ No.” 

Newman withdrew his head, but thrust it in again. 

“ You’re quite sure you’re not at home, are you? ” 

“ What does the idiot mean ? ” 

“ He has been waiting nearly ever since they first came 
in, and may have heard yoUr voice, that’s all,” said Newman, 
rubbing his hands. 

“ Who has?” 

The necessity of a reply was superseded by the unlooked- 
for entrance of a third party — the individual in question 
— who made a great many shambling bows and sat himself 
down in an arm chair, with his hands on his knees, and his 
short black trousers drawn up so high in the legs by the 
exertion of seating himself that they scarcely reached below 
the tops of his Wellington Boots. 

“ Why, this is a surprise! ” said Ralph, bending his gaze 
upon the visitor and half-smiling as he scrutinized him at¬ 
tentively. “ I should know your face, Mr. Squeers.” 

“Ah! and you’d have know’d it better, sir, if it hadn’t 
been for all that I’ve been agoing through. Just lift that 
little boy off the tall stool in the back office, and tell him to 
come in here, will you, my man ? ” said Squeers, addressing 
himself to Newman. “ Oh, he’s lifted hisself off! My son, 
sir, little Wackford. What do you think of him, sir, for a 
specimen of the Dotheboys Hall feeding? Ain’t he fit to 


298 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

bust out of his clothes, and start the seams, and make the 
very buttons fly off with his fatness? Here’s flesh! ” cried 
Squeers, turning the boy about, and indenting the plumpest 
parts of his figure with divers pokes and punches to the 
great discomposure of his son and heir. “Here’s firmness; 
here’s solidness! Why you can hardly get up enough of him 
between your finger and thumb to pinch him anywheres.” 

“ He looks well, indeed,” returned Ralph, who, for pur¬ 
poses of his own, seemed desirous to conciliate the school¬ 
master. “ But how is Mrs. Squeers, and how are you? ” 

“ Mrs. Squeers, sir, is as she always is — a mother to them 
lads, and a blessing, and a comfort, and a joy to all them as 
knows her. One of our boys, gorging hisself with wittles and 
then turning ill — that’s their way — got an abscess on 
him last week. To see how she operated upon him with a 
penknife! Oh Lor! What a member of society that 
woman is! ” 

“ Have you quite recovered from that scoundrel’s attack? ” 
asked Ralph. 

“ I’ve only just done it, if I’ve done it now. I was one 
blessed bruise, sir,” said Squeers, touching first the roots of 
his hair and then the toes of his boots, “ from here to there. 
Vinegar and brown paper, there was a matter of half a ream 
of brown paper stuck upon me, from first to last. As I laid 
all of a heap in our kitchen, plastered all over, you might 
have thought I was a large brown paper parcel, chockfull 
of nothing but groans. Did I groan loud, Wackford, or did 
I groan soft? ” 

“ Loud.” 

“ Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condi¬ 
tion, Wackford, or was they glad? ” 

“ G1-” 

“Eh?” cried Squeers, turning sharp round. 

“Sorry.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


299 


* “ Oh! ” said Squeers, catching him a smart box on the 

ear. “ Then take your hands out of your pockets, and don’t 
stammer when you’re asked a question. Hold your noise, 
sir, in a gentleman’s office, or I’ll run away from my family and 
never come back any more; and then what would become of 
all them precious and forlorn lads as would be let loose on 
the world without their best friend at their elbers ? ” 

“ Were you obliged to have medical attendance? ” inquired 
Ralph. 

“ Ay, was I, and .a precious bill the medical attendant 
brought in too; but I paid it, though.” 

Ralph elevated his eyebrows in a manner which might 
be well expressive of either sympathy or astonishment, just 
as the beholder was pleased to take it. 

" Yes, I paid it, every farthing. I wasn’t out of pocket by 
it after all, either.” 

“ No?” 

“ Not a halfpenny. The fact is, we have only one extra 
with our boys, and that is for doctors when required — and 
not then, unless we’re sure of our customers. Do you see? ” 

“ I understand.” 

“ Very good. Then after my bill was run up, we picked 
out five little boys (sons of small tradesmen, as was sure pay) 
that had never had the scarlet fever, and we sent one to a 
cottage where they’d got it, and he took it, and then we put 
the four others to sleep with him, and they took it, and then 
the doctor came and attended ’em once all round, and we 
divided my total among ’em, and added it on to their little 
bills, and the parents paid it. Ha! ha! ha! ” 

“ And a good plan, too,” said Ralph, eyeing the schoomaster 
stealthily. 

“ I believe you. We always do it.” 

Ralph inquired what had brought him to town. 

“ Some bothering law business,” replied Squeers, scratch- 


300 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

ing his head, “ connected with an action for what they call 
1 neglect of a boy/ I don’t know what they would have. 
He had as good grazing, that boy had, as there is about us.” 

Ralph looked as if he did not quite understand the observa¬ 
tion. 

“ Grazing. When a boy gets weak and ill and don’t relish 
his meals, we give him a change of diet — turn him out, for 
an hour or so every day, into a neighbour’s turnip field, or 
carrots, alternately, and let him eat as many as he likes. 
There an’t better land in the county than this perwerse lad 
grazed on, and yet he goes and catches cold and indigestion 
and what not, and then his friends brings a lawsuit against 
me! Now you’d' hardly suppose people’s ingratitude would 
carry them quite as far as that, would you ? ” 

“ A hard case, indeed.” 

“ You don’t say more than the truth when you say that. 
I don’t suppose there’s a man going as possesses the fondness 
for youth that I do.” 

After a long pause, during which Ralph appeared absorbed 
in contemplation, he finally broke silence by asking: 

“ Who is this boy that my nephew took with him? ” 

Squeers stated his name. 

“ Was he young or old, healthy or sickly, tractable or re¬ 
bellious? Speak out, man,” retorted Ralph. 

“ Why, he wasn’t young, that is, not young for a boy, 
you know.” 

“ That is, he was not a boy at all, I suppose? ” interrupted 
Ralph. 

“ Well, he might have been nigh twenty. He wouldn’t seem 
so old, though, to them as didn’t know him, for he was a little 
wanting here,” touching his forehead; “ nobody at home, you 
know, if you knocked ever so often.” 

“ And you did knock pretty often, I dare say? ” muttered 
Ralph. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


301 


“ Pretty well,” returned Squeers with a grin. 

“ When you wrote, you told me his friends had deserted 
him long ago and that you had not the faintest clue or trace 
to tell you who he was. Is that the truth? ” 

“ It is, worse luck! It’s fourteen years ago, by the entry 
in my book, since a strange man brought him to my place one 
autumn night and left him there, paying five pound five, for 
his first quarter in advance. He might have been five or six 
year old at that time, not more.” 

“ What more do you know about him ? ” 

“ Devilish little, I’m sorry to say. The money was paid 
for some six or eight year, and then ft stopped. He had 
given an address in London, had this chap; but when it came 
to the point, of course, nobody knowed anything about him. 
So I kept the lad out of — out of-” 

“ Charity? ” 

“ Charity, to be sure, and when he begins to be useful in 
a certain sort of way, this young scoundrel of a Nickleby 
comes and carries him off. But the most vexatious and ag¬ 
gravating part of the whole affair is,” dropping his voice, and 
drawing his chair still closer to Ralph, “ that some questions 
have been asked about him at last; not of me, but in a round¬ 
about way, of people in our village. So that just when I 
might have had all arrears paid up and perhaps a present 
besides for putting him out to a farmer, or sending him to 
sea, so that he might never turn up to disgrace his parents 
— damme, if that villain of a Nickleby don’t collar him in 
open day and commit as good as highway robbery upon my 
pocket.” 

“ We will both cry ‘ quits f with him before long,” said 
Ralph, laying his hand on the arm of the Yorkshire school¬ 
master. 

“ Quits! Ah! and I should like to leave a small balance 
in his favour to be settled when he can. I only wish Mrs. 


302 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Squeers could catch hold of him. Bless her heart! She’d 
murder him, Mr. Nickleby. She would, as soon as eat her 
dinner.” 

“ We will talk of this again. I must have time to think 
of it. To wound him through his own affections and 
fancies-. If I could strike him through this boy-” 

“ Strike him how you like, sir, only hit him hard enough, 
that’s all. And with that, I’ll say good morning. Here! — 
just chuck that little boy’s hat off that corner peg, and lift 
him off the stool, will you ? ” 

Bawling these requests to Newman Noggs, Mr. Squeers 
betook himself to the little back office, and fitted on his 
child’s hat with parental anxiety, while Newman, with 
his pen behind his ear, sat stiff and immovable on his 
stool regarding the father and son by turns with a broad 
stare. 

“ He’s a fine boy, an’t he ? ” said Squeers, throwing his 
head a little on one side and falling back to the desk, the 
better to estimate the proportions of little Wackford. 

“ Very,” said Newman. 

“Pretty well swelled out, an’t he?” pursued Squeers. 
“ He has the fatness of twenty boys, he has.” 

“Ah! ” replied Newman, suddenly thrusting his face into 
that of Squeers, “ he has — the fatness of twenty! — more! 
He’s got it all. God help the others. Ha, ha! Oh, Lord! ” 

Having uttered these fragmentary observations, Newman 
dropped upon his desk and began to write with most mar¬ 
vellous rapidity. 

“ Why, what does the man mean? ” cried Squeers, colour¬ 
ing. “Is he drunk?” 

Newman made no reply. 

“ Is he mad? ” said Squeers. 

But still Newman betrayed no consciousness of any pres¬ 
ence save his own; so Mr. Squeers comforted himself by 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 303 

saying that he was both drunk and mad; and with this part¬ 
ing observation, he led his hopeful son away. 


CHAPTER XXII 

H AVING established his mother and sister in the apart¬ 
ment of the kind-hearted miniature painter, and 
ascertained that Sir Mulberry Hawk was in no danger of 
losing his life, Nicholas turned his thought to poor Smike, 
who, after breakfasting with Newman Noggs, had remained 
in a disconsolate state at that worthy creature’s lodgings, 
waiting with much anxiety for further intelligence of his 
protector. 

“As he will be one of our own little household wherever 
we live or whatever fortune is in reserve for us,” thought 
Nicholas, “ I must present the poor fellow in due form. They 
will be kind to him for his own sake, and if not to the full 
extent I could wish, they will stretch a point, I am sure, for 
mine.” Nicholas said “ they,” but his misgivings were con¬ 
fined to one person. He was sure of Kate, but he knew 
his mother’s peculiarities and was not quite so certain that 
Smike would find favour in the eyes of Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ However,” thought Nicholas, as he departed on his 
benevolent journey, “ she cannot fail to become attached to 
him when she knows what a devoted creature he is.” 

Smike, overjoyed to see his friend again, said, “ I was 
afraid that you had fallen into some fresh trouble. The 
time seemed so long, at last, that I almost feared you were 
lost.” 

“ Lost! You will not be rid of me so easily, I promise you. 
I shall rise to the surface many thousand times yet, and the 
harder the thrust that pushes me down, the more quickly I 


304 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


shall rebound. Smike. But, come. My errand here is to 
take you home.” 

So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm and, 
pointing out various things to amuse and interest him as they 
went along, led the way to Miss La Creevy’s house. 

“ And this, Kate,” said Nicholas, entering the room where 
his sister sat alone, “ is the faithful friend and affectionate 
fellow traveller whom I prepared you to receive.” 

Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened 
enough, at first, but Kate advanced towards him so kindly 
and said, in such a sweet voice, how anxious she had been to 
see him after all her brother had told her, and how much she 
had to thank him for having comforted Nicholas so greatly 
in their very trying reverses, that he began to be doubtful 
whether he should shed tears or not, and became still more 
flurried. However, he managed to say, in a broken voice, 
that Nicholas was his only friend and that he would lay 
down his life to help him. Kate, although she was kind and 
considerate, seemed to be so wholly unconscious of his dis¬ 
tress and embarrassment, that he recovered almost immedi¬ 
ately and felt quite at home. 

Then, Miss La Creevy came in; and to her Smike had to 
be presented also. Miss La Creevy was very kind, too. 

At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning 
came in. Nicholas, kissing the lady in mourning affection¬ 
ately and calling her his mother, led her towards the chair 
from which Smike had risen when she entered the room. 

“ You are always kind-hearted and anxious to help the 
oppressed, my dear mother, so you will be favourably dis¬ 
posed towards him, I know.” 

“ I am sure, my dear Nicholas,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, 
looking very hard at her new friend and bending to him 
with something more of majesty than the occasion seemed 
to require, “ I am sure any friend of yours has, as indeed he 
naturally ought to have, and must have, of course, a great 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


305 


claim on me. It is a very great pleasure to me to be in¬ 
troduced to anybody you take an interest in. There can 
be no doubt about that; none at all; not the least in the 
world. At the same time I must say, Nicholas, my dear, 
as I used to say to your poor dear papa, when he would 
bring gentlemen home to dinner and there was nothing in the 
house, that if he had come the day before yesterday — no, 
I don’t mean the day before yesterday — I should have said, 
perhaps, the year before last — we should have been better 
able to entertain him.” 

With which remarks, Mrs. Nickleby turned to her daughter 
and inquired, in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman 
was going to stay all night ? 

“ Because if he is, Kate, my dear, I don’t see that it’s 
possible for him to sleep anywhere, and that’s the truth.” 

Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show of 
annoyance or irritation breathed a few words into her mother’s 
ear. 

“ La, Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, shrinking back, 
“ how you do tickle one! Of course, I understand that, my 
love, without your telling me; and I said the same to Nicho¬ 
las, and I am very much pleased. You didn’t tell me, Nicho¬ 
las, my dear,” added Mrs. Nickleby, turning round, with an 
air of less reserve than she had before assumed, “ what your 
friend’s name is.” 

“ His name, mother, is Smike.” 

The effect of this communication was by no means an¬ 
ticipated; but the name was no sooner pronounced than 
Mrs. Nickleby dropped upon a chair, and burst into a fit 
of crying. 

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Nicholas, running to 
support her. 

“ It’s so like Pyke, so exactly like Pyke. Oh! don’t speak 
to me — I shall be better presently.” 

After exhibiting every symptom of slow suffocation, in 


306 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


all its stages, and drinking about a teaspoonful of water from 
a full tumbler and spilling the remainder, Mrs. Nickleby was 
better, and remarked, with a feeble smile, that she was very 
foolish, she knew. 

“ It’s a weakness in our family, so, of course, I can’t be 
blamed for it. Your grandmama, Kate, was exactly the 
same — precisely. The least excitement, the slightest sur¬ 
prise — she fainted away directly.” 

“ Mr. Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear? ” said 
Mrs. Nickleby, after dinner, and when she had been silent for 
some time. 

“ Certainly, mother. I see you have not forgotten his 
melancholy history.” 

“ 0, dear, no. Ah! Melancholy indeed! 1 y>u don’t hap¬ 
pen, Mr. Smike, ever to have dined with the Grimbles of 
Grimble Hall somewhere in the North Riding, do you? A 
very proud" man, Sir Thomas Grimble, with six grown-up 
and most lovely daughters, and the finest park in the 
county.” 

“ My dear mother! Do you suppose that the unfortunate 
outcast of a Yorkshire school was likely to receive many 
cards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in the 
neighbourhood ? ” 

“ Really, my dear, I don’t know why it should be so very 
extraordinary. I know that when I was at school I always 
went at least twice every half-year to the Hawkinses at 
Taunton Vale, and they are much richer than the Grimbles, 
and connected with them in marriage; so, you see, it’s not 
so very unlikely after all.” 

Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner, 
Mrs. Nickleby was suddenly seized with a forgetfulness of 
Smike’s real name, and an irresistible tendency to call him 
Mr. Slammons, which circumstance she attributed to the 
remarkable similarity of the two names in point of sound, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 307 

both beginning with an S and, moreover, being spelt with 
an M. But whatever doubt there might be on this point, 
there was none as to his being a most excellent listener, which 
circumstance had considerable influence in placing them on 
the very best terms and in inducing Mrs. Nickleby to express 
the highest opinion of his general deportment and disposi¬ 
tion. 

Thus the little circle remained on the most amicable and 
agreeable footing until the Monday morning, when Nicholas 
withdrew himself from it for a short time, seriously to reflect 
upon the state of his affairs and to determine, if he could, 
upon some course of life which would enable him to support 
those who were so entirely dependent upon his exertions. 

“ i’ll try the employment office again,” he said to himself. 

As Nicholas stopped to look in at the window, an old 
gentleman happened to stop, too. Nicholas, carrying his 
eye along the window panes from left to right in search 
of some placard which should be applicable to his own case, 
caught sight of this old gentleman’s figure, and instinctively 
withdrew his eyes from the window, to observe the same 
more closely. 

He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat, 
but what principally attracted the attention of Nicholas 
was the old gentleman’s eye — never was such a clear, twink¬ 
ling, honest, merry, happy eye, as that, glancing from 
placard to placard; and Nicholas could not forbear raising 
his eyes to his face again. Grafted upon the quaintness and 
oddity of his appearance was something so indescribably 
engaging, and bespeaking so much worth, and there were 
so many little lights hovering about the corners of his mouth 
and eyes that it was not a mere amusement but a positive 
pleasure and delight to look at him. 

This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caught 
Nicholas in the act more than once. At such times, Nicholas 


308 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


coloured and looked embarrassed: for the truth is, that he 
had begun to wonder whether the stranger could, by any pos¬ 
sibility, be looking for a clerk or secretary. As the stranger 
was moving away, Nicholas caught his eye again, and, in 
the awkwardness of the moment, stammered out an apology. 

“ No offence. Oh, no offence! ” said the old man. 

This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so 
exactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and 
there was such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas 
was emboldened to speak again. 

“ A great many opportunities here, sir! ” he said, half- 
smiling as he motioned towards the window. 

“ A great many people willing and anxious to be employed 
have seriously thought so very often, I dare say,” replied 
the old man. “ Poor fellows, poor fellows! ” 

He moved away, as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas 
was about to speak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as 
if he were unwilling to cut him short. 

“ You were about to speak, young gentleman. What were 
you going to say? ” 

“ Merely that I almost hoped — I mean to say, thought — 
you had some object in consulting those advertisements.” 

“ Ay, ay? What object now — what object?” returned 
the old man, looking slyly at Nicholas. “ Did you think I 
wanted a situation now ? Eh ? Did you think I did ? ” 

Nicholas shook his head. 

“ Ha, ha! ” laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands 
and wrists as if he were washing them. “ A very natural 
thought, at all events, after seeing me gazing at those 
bills. I thought the same of you, at first; upon my word, 
I did.” 

“ If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not 
have been far from the truth.” 

“Eh?” cried the old man, surveying him from head to 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


309 


foot. “What! Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young 
gentleman reduced to such a necessity! No, no, no, no/’ 

Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good morning, turned 
upon his heel. 

“ Stay,” said the old man, beckoning him into a bye-street, 
where they could converse with less interruption. “ What 
d’ye mean, eh ? ” 

“ Merely that your kind face and manner — both unlike 
any I have ever seen — tempted me into an avowal, which, 
to any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should 
not have dreamed of making.” 

“ Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It is a wilderness. 
It was a wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot. I 
have never forgotten it. Thank God! ” and he took his hat 
from his head and looked very grave. 

“ What’s the matter ? What is it ? How did it all come 
about?” laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and 
walking him up the street. “ You’re — eh ? ” laying his finger 
on the sleeve of his black coat. “ Who’s it for, eh? ” 

“ My father.” 

“Ah! Bad thing for a young man to lose his father. 
Widowed mother, perhaps ? ” 

Nicholas sighed. 

“ Brothers and sisters too ? Eh ? ” 

“ One sister.” 

“Poor thing, poor thing! You’re a scholar too, I dare 
say?” 

“ I have been tolerably well educated.” 

“ Fine thing, education, a great thing — a very great thing! 
I never had any. I admire it the more in others. A very 
great thing! Yes, yes.- Tell me more of your history. Let 
me hear it all. No impertinent curiosity, — no, no-no.” 

There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in 
which this was said that Nicholas could not resist it. Among 


310 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


men who have any sound and sterling qualities, there is 
nothing so contagious as pure openness of heart. Nicholas 
took the infection instantly and ran over the main points of 
his little history without reserve, merely suppressing names 
and touching as lightly as possible upon his uncle’s treat¬ 
ment of Kate. The old man listened with great attention; 
and when he had concluded, drew his arm eagerly through his 
own. 

“ Don’t say another word. Not another word! Come 
along with me. We mustn’t lose a minute.” 

So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into Oxford 
Street and, hailing an omnibus on its way to the City, pushed 
Nicholas in before him, and followed himself. 

As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of rest¬ 
less excitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, 
immediately interposed with: “ Don’t say another word, my 
dear sir, on any account — not another word! ” the young 
man thought it better to attempt no further interruption. 
Into the City they journeyed accordingly, without interchang¬ 
ing any conversation; and the farther they went, the more 
Nicholas wondered what the end of the adventure could 
possibly be. 

The old gentleman got out with great alacrity, when they 
reached the Bank 1 and, once more taking Nicholas by the 
arm, hurried him along Threadneedle Street and through some 
lanes and passages on the right until they at length emerged 
in a quiet shady little square. Into the oldest and cleanest- 
looking house of business in the square he led the way. 
The only inscription on the door post was “ Cheeryble 
Brothers ”; but from a hasty glance at the directions of some 
packages which were lying about, Nicholas supposed that 
the Brothers Cheeryble were German merchants. 

Passing through a warehouse which presented every indi¬ 
cation of a thriving business, Mr. Cheeryble (for such Nicho- 
1 The Bank of England. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


311 


las supposed him to be, from the respect which had been 
shown him by the warehousemen and porters whom they 
passed) led him into a little partitioned-off counting-house 
like a large glass case, in which there sat — as free from dust 
and blemish as if he had been fixed into the glass case before 
the top was put. on and had never come out since — a fat, 
elderly, large-faced clerli, with silver spectacles and a 
powdered head. 

“ Is my brother in his room, Tim? ” said Mr. Cheeryble, 
with no less kindness of manner than he had shown to 
Nicholas. 

“ Yes he is, sir,” replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle- 
glasses towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas, 
“ but Mr. Trimmers is with him.” 

“ Ay! And what has he come about, Tim ? ” 

“ He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family 
of a man who was killed in the East India Docks this morning, 
sir. Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar.” 

“ He is a good creature,” said Mr. Cheeryble, with great 
earnestness. “ He is a kind soul. I am very much obliged 
to Trimmers. Trimmers is one of the best friends we have. 
He makes a thousand cases known to us that we should never 
discover of ourselves. I am very much obliged to Trimmers.” 
Saying which, Mr. Cheeryble rubbed his hands with infinite 
delight, and Mr. Trimmers happening to pass the door that 
instant, on his way out, shot out after him and caught him 
by the hand. 

“ I owe you a thousand thanks, Trimmers, ten thousand 
thanks. I take it very friendly of you, very friendly indeed,” 
dragging him into a corner to get out of hearing. “ How 
many children are there, and what has my brother Ned given, 
Trimmers? ” 

“ There are six children,” replied the gentleman, “ and 
your brother has given us twenty pounds.” 

“ My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you’re a good 


312 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

fellow, too, Trimmers,” shaking him by both hands with 
trembling eagerness. “ Put me down for another twenty — 
or — stop a minute, stop a minute! We mustn’t look osten¬ 
tatious; put me down ten pound, and Tim Linkinwater ten 
pound. A cheque for twenty pound for Mrs. Trimmers, Tim. 
God bless you, Trimmers — and come and dine with us some 
day this week; you’ll always find a knife and fork, and we 
shall be delighted. Now, my dear sir —cheque from Mr. 
Linkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar, and six poor 
children — oh dear, dear, dear! ” 

Talking on in ‘this strain, as fast as he could to prevent 
any friendly remonstrances from the collector, Mr. Cheeryble 
led Nicholas, equally astonished and affected by what he had 
seen and heard in this short space, to the half-opened door 
of another room. 

“ Brother Ned,” said Mr. Cheeryble, tapping with his 
knuckle and stopping to listen, “ are you busy, my 
dear brother, or can you spare time for a word or two 
with me ? ” 

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow,” replied a voice from 
the inside, so like in its tones to that which had just spoken, 
that Nicholas started, and almost thought it was the same, 
“ don’t ask me such a question, but come in directly.” 

They went in without further parley. What was the 
amazement of Nicholas when his conductor advanced and 
exchanged a warm greeting with another old gentleman, the 
very type and model of himself. Nobody could have doubted 
their being twin brothers. 

“ Brother Ned,” said Nicholas’s friend, closing the room 
door, “ here is a young friend of mine whom we must assist. 
We must make proper inquiries into his statements, in justice 
to him as well as to ourselves; and if they are confirmed — 
as I feel assured they will be — we must assist him, we must 
assist him, brother Ned.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


313 


“ It is enough, my dear brother, that you say we should. 
When you say that, no further inquiries are needed. He shall 
be assisted. What are his necessities, and what does he 
require? Where is Tim Linkinwater? ” said Brother Ned. 

“ Stop, stop, stop! ” said Brother Charles, taking the other 
aside. ' “ IVe a plan, my dear brother, I’ve a plan. Tim is 
getting old, and Tim has been a faithful servant. I don’t 
think pensioning Tim’s mother and sister and buying a little 
tomb for the family when his poor brother died was a sufficient 
recompense for his faithful services.” 

“ No, no, no, certainly not. Not half enough, not half.” 

“ If we could lighten Tim’s duties and prevail upon him 
to go into the country now and then and sleep in the fresh 
air two or three times a week (which he could, if he began 
business an hour later in the morning), old Tim Linkin¬ 
water would grow young again in time; and he’s three good 
years our senior now. Old Tim Linkinwater young again! 
Eh, brother Ned, eh? why, I recollect old Tim Linkinwater 
quite a little boy, don’t you? Ha, ha, ha! Poor Tim, poor 
Tim! 

“ But hear this first — hear this first, Brother Ned,” said 
the old man, hastily, placing two chairs, one on each side of 
Nicholas. “ I’ll tell it you myself because the young gentle¬ 
man is modest, and is a scholar, and you and I shouldn’t feel 
it right that he should tell us his story over and over again 
as if he was a beggar, or as if we doubted him. No, no, no.” 

“ No, no, no,” nodding his head gravely. “ Very right, my 
dear brother, very right.” 

“ He will tell me I’m wrong, if I make a mistake, but 
whether I do or not, you’ll be very much affected, Brother 
Ned, remembering the time when we were two friendless 
lads and earned our first shilling in this great city.” 

The twins pressed each other’s hands in silence, and in 
his own homely manner Brother Charles related the particu- 


314 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

lars he had heard from Nicholas. The conversation which 
ensued was a long one; and when it was over, a secret con¬ 
ference of almost equal duration took place between Brother 
Ned and Tim Linkinwater in another room. It is no dis¬ 
paragement to Nicholas to say that, before he had been 
closeted with the two brothers ten minutes, he could only 
wave his hand at every fresh expression of kindness and 
sympathy, and sob like a little child. 

At length Brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back 
together, when Tim instantly walked up to Nicholas and 
whispered in his ear in a very brief sentence (for Tim was 
ordinarily a man of few words) that he had taken down the 
address in the Strand and would call-upon him that evening, 
at eight. Having done which, Tim wiped his spectacles and 
put them on, preparatory to hearing what more the brother 
Cheeryble had to say. 

“ Tim,” said Brother Charles, “ you understand that we 
have an intention of taking this young gentleman into the 
countinghouse ? ” 

Brother Ned remarked that Tim was aware of that in¬ 
tention and quite approved of it. Tim having nodded, and 
said he did, drew himself up and looked particularly fat, and 
very important. After which there was a profound silence. 

“ I’m not coming an hour later in the morning, you know,” 
said Tim, breaking out all at once and looking very resolute. 
“ I’m not going to sleep in the fresh air; no, and I’m not 
going into the country, either. A pretty thing at this time 
of day, certainly. Pho! ” 

“ Darn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater,” said Brother 
Charles, looking at him without the faintest spark of anger, 
and with a countenance radiant with attachment to the old 
clerk. “ Darn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater; what do 
you mean, sir ? ” 

Tim said: “ It’s forty-four year next May since I first kept 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


315 


the books of Cheeryble Brothers. IVe opened the safe every 
morning all that time (Sundays excepted) as the clock struck 
nine, and gone over the house every night at half-past ten 
(except on Foreign Post nights, and then twenty minutes 
before twelve) to see the doors fastened and the fires out. 
I’ve never slept out of the back attic one single night. There’s 
the same mignonette box in the middle of the window, and 
the same four flower pots, two on each side, that I brought 
with me when I first came. There ain’t — I’ve said it again 
and again, and I’ll maintain it — there ain’t such a square 
as this in the world. I know there ain’t. Not one. For 
business or pleasure, in summer time or wunter — I don’t 
care which — there’s nothing like it. There’s not such a 
spring of water in England as the pump under the archway. 
There’s not such a view in England as the view out of my 
window. I’ve seen it every morning before I shaved, and 
I ought to know something about it. I have slept in that 
room for four-and-forty year; and if it wasn’t inconvenient 
and didn’t interfere with business, I should request leave to 
die there.” 

‘ Confound you, Tim Linkinwater, how dare you talk about 
dying ? ” roared the twins by one impulse and blowing their 
old noses violently. 

“ That’s what I’ve got to say, Mr. Edwin and Mr. Charles,” 
said Tim, squaring his shoulders again. “ This isn’t the first 
time you’ve talked about superannuating me; but, if you 
please, we’ll make it the last, and drop the subject for ever¬ 
more.” 

With those words, Tim Linkinwater stalked out, and shut 
himself up in his glass case, with the air of a man who had 
had his say, and was thoroughly resolved not to be put down. 

The brothers exchanged looks and coughed some half-dozen 
times without speaking. 

“ He must be done something with, Brother Ned. We 


316 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

must disregard his old scruples; they can’t be tolerated or 
borne. He must be made a partner, Brother Ned; and if 
he won’t do it peaceably, we must have recourse to violence.” 

“ Quite right, quite right, my dear brother. If he won’t 
listen to reason, we must do it against his will and show 
him that we are determined to exert our authority. We 
must quarrel with him, Brother Charles.” 

“ We must. We certainly must have a quarrel with Tim 
Linkinwater. But in the meantime, my dear brother, we are 
keeping our young friend, and the poor lady and her daughter 
will be anxious for his return. So let us say good-by for the 
p resen t _ there, there — take care of that box, my dear sir 
— and — no, no, no, not a word now — be careful of the 
crossings and-” 

And with many disjointed and unconnected words which 
would prevent Nicholas from pouring out his thanks, the 
brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him all the 
way and affecting very unsuccessfully — they were poor hands 
at deception! —to be wholly unconscious of the feelings that 
mastered him. 

To recount all the delight and wonder which the cir¬ 
cumstances just detailed awakened at Miss La Creevy’s, and 
all the things that were done, said, thought, expected, hoped, 
and prophesied in consequence is beside the present course and 
purpose of these adventures. It is sufficient to state, in 
brief, that Mr. Timothy Linkinwater arrived, punctual to 
his appointment; that he reported strongly and warmly in 
favour of Nicholas; and that next day Nicholas was ap¬ 
pointed to the vacant stool in the countinghouse of Cheeryble 
Brothers, with a present salary of one hundred and twenty 
pounds a year. 

“ And I think, my dear brother,” said Nicholas’s first friend, 
“ that if we were to let them that little cottage at Bow which 
is empty, at something under the usual rent, now? Eh, 
Brother Ned? ” 



The brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him 

all the way. 














































































318 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ For nothing at all. We are rich and should be ashamed 
to touch the rent under such circumstances as these. Where 
is Tim Linkinwater ? — for nothing at all, my dear brother, 
for nothing at all.” 

“ Perhaps it would be better to say something, Brother 
Ned. It would help to preserve habits of frugality, you 
know, and remove any painful sense of overwhelming obliga¬ 
tions. We might say fifteen pound, or twenty pound; and 
if it was punctually paid, make it up to them in some other 
way. And I might secretly advance a small loan towards a 
little furniture, and you might secretly advance another small 
loan, Brother Ned; and if we find them doing well — as we 
shall; there’s no fear, no fear — we can change the loan into 
gifts. Carefully, Brother Ned, and by degrees, and without 
pressing upon them too much — what do you say now, 
brother? ” 

Brother Ned gave his hand upon it, and not only said it 
should be done, but had it done, too; and in one short week, 
Nicholas took possession of the house, and all was hope, 
bustle, and light-heartedness. 

There surely never was such a week of discoveries and 
surprises as the first week at that cottage. Every night 
when Nicholas came home, something new had been found 
out. One day it was a grape vine, and another day it was a 
boiler, and another day it was the key of the front parlour 
closet at the bottom of the water-butt, and so on through 
a hundred items. Then this room was embellished with a 
muslin curtain, and that room was rendered quite elegant 
by a window blind, and such improvements were made as no 
one could have supposed possible. Then there was Miss 
La Creevy, who had come out in the omnibus to stop a day 
or two and help, and who was perpetually losing a very small 
brown paper parcel of tin tacks and a very large hammer, and 
running about with her sleeves tucked up at the wrists, and 
falling off pairs of steps and hurting herself very much — 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


319 


and Mrs. Nickleby, who talked incessantly, and Kate, who 
busied herself noiselessly everywhere, and was pleased with 
everything — and Smike, who made the garden a perfect 
wonder to look upon — and Nicholas, who helped and en¬ 
couraged them every one — all the peace and cheerfulness 
of home restored, with such new zest imparted to every frugal 
pleasure and such delight to every hour of meeting that 
misfortune and separation alone could give. 

In short, the poor Nicklebys were social and happy, while 
the rich Nickleby was alone and miserable. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

W ITH a shattered leg, a body severely bruised, a face 
disfigured by half-healed scars, and pallid from the 
exhaustion of recent pain and fever, Sir Mulberry Hawk lay 
stretched upon his back on the couch to which he was doomed 
to be a prisoner for some weeks yet to come. Mr. Pyke and 
Mr. Pluck sat drinking hard in the next room, now and then 
varying the monotonous murmurs of their conversation with 
a half-smothered laugh, while the young lord — the only 
member of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable — 
and who really had a kind heart — sat beside his mentor with 
a cigar in his mouth, and read to him by the light of a lamp 
such scraps of intelligence from a paper of the day as were 
most likely to yield him interest or amusement. 

“ Curse those hounds! ” said the invalid, turning his 
head impatiently towards the adjoining room, “ will nothing 
stop their infernal throats ? ” 

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck heard the exclamation and stopped 
immediately, winking to each other as they did so and filling 
their glasses to the brim as some recompense for the depriva¬ 
tion of speech. 


320 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Damn! ” muttered the sick man between his teeth and 
writhing impatiently in his bed. “ Isn’t this mattress hard 
enough, and the room dull enough, and the pain bad enough, 
but they must torture me! What’s the time ? ” 

“ Half-past eight,” replied his friend. 

“ Here, draw the table nearer, and let us have the cards 
again. More piquet. Come.” 

While he was thus occupied, his man appeared to announce 
that Mr. Ralph Nickleby was below and wished to know 
how he was tonight. 

“ Better.” 

“ Mr. Nickleby wishes to know, sir-” 

“ I tell you, better,” striking his hand upon the table. 

The man hesitated for a moment or two, and then said 
that Mr. Nickleby had requested permission to see Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk, if it was not inconvenient. 

“ It is inconvenient. I can’t see him. I can’t see any¬ 
body,” said his master, more violently than before. “ You 
know that, you blockhead.” 

“ I am very sorry, sir. But Mr. Nickleby pressed so much, 
sir.” 

The fact was that Ralph Nickleby had bribed the man, 
who being anxious to earn his money with a view to future 
favours, held the door in his hand and ventured to linger still. 

“ Did he say whether he had any business to speak about ? ” 
inquired Sir Mulberry, after a little impatient consider¬ 
ation. 

“ No, sir. He said he wished to see you, sir. Particularly, 
Mr. Nickleby said, sir.” 

“ Tell him to come up. Here! ” cried Sir Mulberry, calling 
the man back as he passed his hand over his disfigured face, 
“ move that lamp, and put it on the stand behind me. Wheel 
that table away, and place a chair there — further off. Leave 
it so.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


321 


The man obeyed these directions as if he quite com¬ 
prehended the motive with which they were dictated, and 
left the room. Lord Frederick Verisopht, remarking that 
he would look in presently, strolled into the adjoining apart¬ 
ment and closed the folding door behind him. 

Then was heard a subdued footstep on the stairs; and 
Ralph Nickleby, hat in hand, crept softly into the room, with 
his body bent forward as if in profound respect, and his eyes 
fixed upon the face of his worthy client. 

“ Well, Nickleby,” said Sir Mulberry, motioning him to 
the chair by the couch side and waving his hand in assumed 
carelessness. “ I have had a bad accident, you see. 

“ I see,” rejoined Ralph, with the same steady gaze. “ Bad, 
indeed! I should not have known you, Sir Mulberry. Dear, 
dear! This is bad.” 

“ Sit down,” said Sir Mulberry, turning towards him, as 
though by a violent effort. “ Am I a sight that you stand 
gazing there ? ” 

As he turned his face, Ralph recoiled a step or two, and 
making as though he were irresistibly impelled to express 
astonishment, but was determined not to do so, sat down with 
well-acted confusion. 

“ I have inquired at the door, Sir Mulberry, every day, 
twice a day, indeed, at first—-and tonight —I could not 
resist soliciting admission to your room. Have you —have 
you suffered much? ” 

“ More than enough to please me, and less than enough to 
please some broken-down hacks that you and I know of and 
who lay their ruin between us, I dare say. What is it that 
brought you here tonight? ” 

“ Nothing. There are some bills of my lord’s which need 
renewal; but let them be till you are well. I — I — came,” 
said Ralph, speaking more slowly and with harsher emphasis, 
“ X came to say how grieved I am that any relative of mine, 


322 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


although disowned by me, should have inflicted such punish¬ 
ment on you as-” 

“ Punishment! ” 

“ I know it has been a severe one and that has made me 
the more anxious to tell you that I disown this vagabond — 
that I acknowledge him as no kin of mine — and that I leave 
him to take his deserts from you and every man besides. 
You may wring his neck if you please. I shall not in¬ 
terfere.” 

“ This story that they tell me here has got abroad then, 
has it ? ” asked Sir Mulberry, clenching his hands and teeth. 

“ Noised in all directions. Every club and gaming room 
has rung with it. There has been a good song made about 
it, as I am told,” said Ralph, looking eagerly at his ques¬ 
tioner. “ I have not heard it myself, not being in the way of 
such things, but I have been told it’s even printed —for 
private circulation — but that’s all over town, of course.” 

“ It’s a lie! I tell you it’s all a lie. The mare took 
fright.” 

“ They say he frightened her. Some say he frightened 
you, but that’s a lie, I know. I have said that boldly — oh, 
a score of times! I am a peaceable man, but I can’t hear 
folks tell that of you. No, no.” When Sir Mulberry found 
coherent words to utter, Ralph bent forward with his hand 
to his ear and a face as calm as if its every line of sternness 
had been cast in iron. 

“ When I am off this cursed bed,” said the invalid, actually 
striking at his broken leg in the ecstasy of his passion, “ I’ll 

have such revenge as never man had yet. By G-I will! 

Accident favouring him, he has marked me for a week or two, 
but 111 put a mark on him that he shall carry to his grave. 
I’ll slit his nose and ears, flog him, maim him for life. I’ll 
do more than that; I’ll drag that pattern of chastity, that 
pink of prudery, his delicate sister, through-” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


323 


He stopped and, menacing with his hand, confirmed the 
unuttered threat with a tremendous oath. 

“ It is a galling thing,” said Ralph, after a short term of 
silence, during which he had eyed the sufferer keenly, “ to 
think that the man about town, the rake, the roue, the rook 
of twenty seasons, should be brought to this pass by a mere 
boy! ” 

Sir Mulberry darted a wrathful look at him, but Ralph’s 
eyes were bent upon the ground, and his face wore no other 
expression than one of thoughtfulness. 

“ A raw, slight stripling against a man whose very weight 
might crush him; to say nothing of his skill in — I am right, 
I think,” raising his eyes; “you were a patron of the ring 
once, were you not ? ” 

The sick man made an impatient gesture, which Ralph 
chose to consider as one of acquiescence. 

“ Ha! I thought so. That was before I knew you, but I 
was pretty sure I couldn’t be mistaken. He is light and 
active, I suppose. But those were slight advantages com¬ 
pared with yours. Luck, luck! These hangdog outcasts 
have it.” 

“ He’ll need the most he has, when I am well again, let 
him fly where he will.” 

“ Oh! he doesn’t dream of that. He is here, good sir, wait¬ 
ing your pleasure, here in London, walking the streets at noon¬ 
day, carrying it off jauntily, looking for you, I swear. If we 
were only citizens of a country where it could be safely done, 
I’d give good money to have him stabbed to the heart and 
rolled into the kennel for the dogs to tear.” 

As Ralph, somewhat to the surprise of his old client, vented 
this little piece of sound family feeling and took up his hat 
preparatory to departing, Lord Frederick Yerisopht looked 
in. 

“ why what in the dayvle’s name, Hawk, have you and 


324 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Nickleby been talking about? I neyver heard such an in¬ 
sufferable riot. Croak, croak, croak. Bow, wow, wow. 
What has it all been about ? ” 

“ Sir Mulberry has been angry, my lord,” said Ralph, look¬ 
ing towards the couch. 

“Not about money, I hope? Nothing has gone wrong 
in business, has it, Nickleby ? ” 

“ No, my lord, no. On that point we always agree. Sir 
Mulberry has been calling to mind the cause of-” 

There was neither necessity nor opportunity for Ralph 
to proceed; for Sir Mulberry took up the theme and vented 
his threats and oaths against Nicholas, almost as ferociously 
as before. 

Ralph was surprised to see that as this tirade proceeded, 
the manner of Lord Frederick Verisopht, who at the com¬ 
mencement had been twirling his whiskers with a most dandi¬ 
fied and listless air, underwent a complete alteration. He 
was still more surprised when, Sir Mulberry ceasing to speak, 
the young lord angrily and almost unaffectedly requested 
never to have the subject renewed in his presence. 

“ Mind that, Hawk. I never will be a party to, or permit, 
if I can help it, a cowardly attack upon this young 
fellow.” 

“ Cowardly! ” 

“ Ye-es,” said the other, turning full upon him. “ What 
happened to you was more your fault than his; and it shall 
not, with my knowledge, be cruelly visited upon him; it shall 
not indeed.” 

With this emphatic repetition of his concluding words, 
the young lord turned upon his heel, but before he had reached 
the adjoining room, he turned back again and said with even 
greater vehemence than he had displayed before: 

“ I do believe, now; upon my honour, I do believe that the 
sister is as virtuous and modest a young lady as she is a 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


325 


handsome one; and of the brother I say this, that he acted 
as her brother should, and in a manly and spirited manner. 
And I only wish, with all my heart and soul, that any one of 
us came out of this matter half as well as he does.” 

So saying, Lord Frederick Verisopht walked out of the 
room, leaving Ralph Nickleby and Sir Mulberry in most 
unpleasant astonishment. 

“ Is this your pupil ? ” asked Ralph, softly, “ or has he come 
fresh from some country parson? ” 

“ Green fools take these fits sometimes,” biting his lip, and 
pointing to the door. “ Leave him to me.” 

Ralph exchanged a familiar look with his old acquaintance, 
for they had suddenly grown confidential again. 


CHAPTER XXIY 

T IM LINKINWATER, sir,” said Brother Charles; “ give 
me your hand, sir. This is your birthday. How dare 
you talk about anything else till you have been wished many 
happy returns of the day. God bless you, Tim! God bless 
you! ” 

“ My dear brother,” said the other, seizing Tim’s dis¬ 
engaged fist, “ Tim Linkinwater looks ten years younger than 
he did on his last birthday.” 

“ Brother Ned, my dear boy, I believe that Tim Linkin¬ 
water was bom a hundred and fifty years old and is gradu¬ 
ally coming down to five-and-twenty; for he’s younger every 
birthday than he was the year before.” 

“ So he is, Brother Charles, so he is. There’s not a doubt 
about it.” 

“ Remember, Tim,” said Brother Charles, “ that we dine 
at half-past five today instead of two o’clock; we always 


326 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


depart from our usual custom on this anniversary, as you 
very well know. Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, you will make 
one. Tim Linkinwater, give me your snuffbox as a remem¬ 
brance to Brother Charles and myself of an attached and 
faithful rascal; and take that, in exchange, as a feeble mark 
of our respect and esteem, and don’t open it until you go 
to bed.” He gave him a costly gold snuffbox in exchange, in¬ 
closing a banknote worth more than ten times its value and 
hurried away to prevent hearing any thanks. 

At a quarter past five o’clock, punctual to the minute, 
arrived, according to annual usage, Tim Linkinwater’s sister. 
The company consisted of the Brothers Cheeryble, Tim 
Linkinwater, a ruddy-faced, white-headed friend of Tim’s 
(who was a superannuated bank clerk), and Nicholas, who 
was presented to Tim Linkinwater’s sister with much gravity 
and solemnity. The party being now - completed, Brother 
Ned rang for dinner. This being shortly afterwards an¬ 
nounced, Brother Ned led Tim Linkinwater’s sister into the 
next room where the dinner was set forth with great prepara¬ 
tion. Then Brother Ned took the head of the table, and 
Brother Charles the foot; and Tim Linkinwater’s sister sat on 
the left hand of Brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater himself on 
his right; and an ancient butler of apoplectic appearance and 
with very short legs took up his position at the back of 
Brother Ned’s arm chair and, waving his right arm prepara¬ 
tory to taking off the covers with a flourish, stood bolt up¬ 
right and motionless. 

“ For these and all other blessings, Brother Charles,” said 
Ned. 

“ Lord, make us truly thankful, Brother Ned,” said Charles. 

Whereupon the apoplectic butler whisked off the top of 
the soup tureen and shot at once into a state of violent 
activity. 

There was abundance of conversation and little fear of its 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 327 

ever flagging, for the good humour of the glorious old twins 
drew everybody out. 

There was one little ceremony peculiar to the day, both 
the matter and manner of which made a very strong impres¬ 
sion upon Nicholas. The cloth having been removed and 
the decanters sent round for the first time, a profound silence 
succeeded, and in the cheerful faces of the brothers there 
appeared an expression of quiet thoughtfulness very unusual 
at a festive table. As Nicholas, struck by this sudden 
alteration, was wondering what it could portend, the brothers 
rose together, and the one at the top of the table leaning 
forward towards the other and speaking in a low voice as if 
he were addressing him individually, said: 

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow, there is another associa¬ 
tion connected with this day which must never be forgotten, 
and never can be forgotten by you and me. This day, 
which brought into the world a most faithful and excellent 
and exemplary fellow took from it the kindest and very best 
of parents, the very best of parents to us both. I wish that 
she could have seen us in our prosperity and shared it, and 
had the happiness of knowing how dearly we loved her in it, 
as we did when we were two poor boys; but that was not 
to be. My dear brother — The Memory of our Mother.” 

* * * 

As Nicholas had some distance to walk, it was considerably 
past midnight by the time he reached home, where he found 
his mother and Smike sitting up to receive him. It was long 
after their usual hour of retiring, and they had expected him 
at the very latest, two hours ago; but the time had not hung 
heavily on their hands, for Mrs. Nickleby had entertained 
Smike with a genealogical account of her family by the 
mother’s side, comprising biographical sketches of the princi¬ 
pal members, and Smike had sat wondering what it was all 


328 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


about, and whether it was learned from a book, or said out 
of Mrs. Nickleby’s own head, so that they got on together 
very pleasantly. 

Nicholas could not go to bed without expatiating on the 
excellences and munificence of the brothers Cheeryble and 
relating the great success which had attended his efforts that 
day. But before he had said a dozen words, Mrs. Nickleby, 
with many sly winks and nods, observed that she was sure 
Mr. Smike must be quite tired out and that she positively 
must insist on his not sitting up a minute longer. 

“ A most biddable creature he is to be sure,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby, when Smike had wished them good night and left 
the room. “ I know you’ll excuse me, Nicholas, my dear, but 
I don’t like to do this before a third person; indeed, before a 
young man it would not be„ quite proper. Kate has been 
in bed — oh! a couple of hours — and I’m very glad, Nicholas, 
my dear, that I prevailed upon her not to sit up, for I wished 
very much to have an opportunity of saying a few words 
to you. I am naturally anxious about it, and, of course, it’s 
very delightful and consoling to have a grown-up son that 
one can put confidence in and advise with; indeed, I don’t 
know any use there would be in having sons at all unless 
people could put confidence in them.” 

Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his 
mother began to speak, and looked at her with fixed atten¬ 
tion. 

“ There was a lady in our neighbourhood,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby, “ speaking of sons puts me in mind of it, — a lady 
in our neighbourhood, when we lived near Dawlish, I think 
her name was Rogers; indeed I am sure it was, if it wasn’t 
Murphy, which is the only doubt I have-” 

“ Is it about her, mother, that you wish to speak to me ? ” 

“ About her! Good gracious, Nicholas, my dear, how can 
you be ’so ridiculous! But that was always the way with 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


329 


your poor dear papa — just his way, — always wandering, 
never able to fix his thoughts on any one subject for two 
minutes together. I think I see him now! ” wiping her eyes, 
“ looking at me while I was talking to him about his affairs, 
just as if his ideas were in a state of perfect conglomeration! 
Anybody who had come in upon us suddenly would have 
supposed I was confusing and distracting him instead of 
making things plainer, upon my word they would.” 

“ I am very sorry, mother, that I should inherit this un¬ 
fortunate slowness of apprehension, but I’ll do my best to 
understand you, if you’ll only go straight on.” 

“ Your poor papa! He never knew till it was too late 
what I would have had him do! ” 

This was undoubtedly the case, inasmuch as the deceased 
Mr. Nickleby had not arrived at the knowledge when he 
died. Neither had Mrs. Nickleby herself, which is, in some 
sort, an explanation of the circumstance. 

“ However,” drying her tears, “ this has nothing to do — 
certainly, nothing whatever to do — with the gentleman in 
the next house.” 

“ I should suppose that the gentleman in the next house 
has as little to do with us.” 

“ There can be no doubt that he is a gentleman, and has 
the manners of a gentleman, although he does wear knee 
breeches and grey worsted stockings. That may be eccen¬ 
tricity, or he may be proud of his legs. I don’t see why 
he shouldn’t be. The Prince Regent was proud of his legs, 
and so was Daniel Lambert.” 

Nicholas looked on, quite amazed at the introduction of this 
new theme, which seemed just what Mrs. Nickleby had ex¬ 
pected him to be. 

“ You may well be surprised, Nicholas, my dear. I am sure 
I was. It came upon me like a flash of fire and almost froze 
my blood. The bottom of his garden joins the bottom of 


330 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


ours, and of course I had several times seen him sitting 
among the scarlet beans in his little arbour, or working at 
his little hotbeds. I used to think he stared rather, but I 
didn’t take any particular notice of that, as we were new¬ 
comers, and he might be curious to see what we were like. 
But when he began to throw his cucumbers over our 
wall-” 

“ To throw his cucumbers over our wall? ” repeated Nicho¬ 
las, in great astonishment. 

“ Yes, Nicholas, my dear, his cucumbers over our wall. 
And vegetable marrows likewise.” 

“ Confound his impudence! What does he mean by that ? ” 

“ I don’t think he means it impertinently at all.” 

“ What! Cucumbers and vegetable marrows flying at 
the heads of the family as they walk in their own garden, 
and not meant impertinently! Why, mother-” 

Nicholas stopped short; for there was an indescribable 
expression of placid triumph, mingled with a modest con¬ 
fusion, which arrested his attention suddenly. 

“ He must be a very weak, and foolish, and inconsiderate 
man, blamable, indeed — at least I suppose other people 
would consider him so. Of course, I can’t be expected to 
express any opinion on that point, especially after always 
defending your poor dear papa when other people blamed him 
for making proposals to me; and to be sure there can be no 
doubt that he has taken a very singular way of showing it. 
Still at the same time, his attentions are — that is, as 
far as it goes, and to a certain extent, of course — a flat¬ 
tering sort of thing. And although I should never dream 
of marrying again with a dear girl like Kate still unsettled 
in life-” 

“ Surely, mother, such an idea never entered your brain 
for an instant ? ” 

“ Bless my heart, Nicholas, my dear, isn’t that precisely 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


331 


what I am saying, if you would only let me speak? Of 
course, I never gave it a second thought, and I am surprised 
and astonished that you should suppose me capable of such 
a thing. All I say is, what step is the best to take, so as 
to reject these advances civilly and delicately, and without 
hurting his feelings too much, and driving him to despair, 
or anything of that kind ? My goodness me! Suppose 
he was to go doing anything rash to himself. Could I ever 
be happy again, Nicholas ? ” 

Despite his vexation and concern, Nicholas could scarcely 
help smiling, as he answered: “ Now do you think, mother, 
that such a result would be likely to ensue from the most 
cruel repulse ? ” 

“ Upon my word, my dear, I don’t know; really, I don’t 
know.” 

“ But this man — what has he done, mother, what has he 
said? You know there is no language of vegetables which 
converts a cucumber into a formal declaration of attach¬ 
ment.” 

“ My dear,” tossing her head and looking at the ashes 
in the grate, “ he has done and said all sorts of things.” 

“ Is there no mistake on your part ? ” 

“Mistake! Lord, Nicholas, my dear, do you suppose I 
don’t know when a man’s in earnest ? ” 

“ Well, well! ” 

“ Every time I go to the window he kisses one hand and 
lays the other upon his heart — of course, it’s very foolish 
of him to do so, and I dare say you’ll say it’s very wrong, 
but he does it very respectfully — very respectfully indeed — 
and very tenderly, extremely tenderly. So far, he deserves 
the greatest credit; there can be no doubt about that. Then 
there are the presents which come pouring over the wall every 
day, and very fine they certainly are, very fine. We had 
one of the cucumbers at dinner yesterday and think of 


332 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


pickling the rest for next winter. And last evening, he called 
gently over the wall, as I was walking in the garden, and 
proposed marriage and an elopement. His voice is as clear 
as a bell or a musical glass — very like a musical glass indeed 
— but, of course, I didn't listen to it. Then the question is, 
Nicholas, my dear, what am I to do? ” 

“ Does Kate know of this? ” 

“ I have not said a word about it yet.” 

“ Then, for heaven's sake,” rising, “ do not, for it would 
make her very unhappy. And with regard to what you 
should do, my dear mother, do what your good sense and 
feeling and respect for my father’s memory would prompt. 
There are a thousand ways in which you can show your 
dislike of these preposterous and doting attentions. If you 
act as decidedly as you ought, and they are still continued, and 
to your annoyance, I can speedily put a stop to them. But 
I should not interfere in a matter so ridiculous and attach 
importance to it until you have vindicated yourself. Most 
women can do that, but especially one of your age and condi¬ 
tion, in circumstances like these, which are unworthy of a 
serious thought. I would not shame you by seeming to take 
them to heart or treat them earnestly for an instant. Absurd 
old idiot! ” 

So saying, Nicholas kissed his mother and bade her good 
night, and they retired to their respective rooms. 

To do Mrs. Nickleby justice, her attachment to her children 
would have prevented her seriously contemplating a second 
marriage, even if she could have so far conquered her recol¬ 
lections of her late husband as to have any strong inclinations 
that way. But although there was no evil and little real 
selfishness in Mrs. Nickleby’s heart, she had a weak head 
and a vain one; and there was something so flattering in being 
sought (and vainly sought) in marriage at this time of day 
that she could not dismiss the passion of the unknown gentle- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 333 

man quite so summarily or lightly as Nicholas appeared to 
deem becoming. 

“ As to its being preposterous and doting and ridiculous,” 
thought Mrs. Nickleby, communing with herself in her own 
room, “ I don’t see that at all. It’s hopeless on his part, 
certainly; but why he should be an absurd old idiot, I con¬ 
fess I don’t see. He is not to be supposed to know it’s hope¬ 
less. Poor fellow! He is to be pitied, I think! ” 

Having made these reflections, Mrs. Nickleby looked in 
her little dressing glass and, walking backward a few steps 
from it, tried to remember who it was who used to say that 
when Nicholas was one-and-twenty he would have more the 
appearance of her brother than her son. Not being able 
to call the authority to mind, she extinguished her candle and 
drew up the window blind to admit the light of morning, 
which had, by this time, begun to dawn. 

“ It’s a bad light to distinguish objects in,” murmured 
Mrs. Nickleby, peering into the garden, “ and my eyes are 
not very good — I was shortsighted from a child — but upon 
my word I think there’s another large vegetable marrow 
sticking, at this moment, on the broken glass bottles at the 
top of the wall! ” 


CHAPTER XXY 

W HEN Nicholas returned from executing some commis¬ 
sion and inquired whether Mr. Cherryble was alone in 
his room, Tim replied in the affirmative, although somebody 
had passed into the room not ten minutes before. 

“ I’ll take this letter to him at once if that’s the case,” 
Nicholas said. And with that he walked to the room and 
knocked at the door. 


334 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


No answer. 

Another knock, and still no answer. 

“ He can’t be here. I’ll lay it on his table.” 

Nicholas opened the door and walked in, but very quickly 
he turned to walk out again when he saw to his great astonish¬ 
ment a young lady upon her knees at Mr. Cheeryble’s feet, 
and Mr. Cheeryble beseeching her to rise, and entreating the 
young lady’s female attendant to add her persuasions to his 
to induce her to do so. 

Nicholas stammered out an awkward apology, and was 
hurrying out when the young lady, turning her head a little, 
presented to his view the features of the lovely girl whom he 
had seen at the employment office on his first visit long be¬ 
fore. Glancing from her to the attendant, he recognized the 
same clumsy servant who had accompanied her then; and 
between his admiration of the young lady’s beauty and the 
confusion and surprise of this unexpected recognition, he 
stood stock-still in such a bewildered state of surprise and 
embarrassment that, for the moment, he was quite bereft of 
the power either to speak or move. 

“ My dear ma’am — my dear young lady,” cried Brother 
Charles in violent agitation, “ pray don’t — not another word. 
I beseech and entreat you! I implore you — I beg of you 
— to rise. We — we — are not alone.” 

As he spoke, he raised the young lady, who staggered to a 
chair and fainted away. 

“ She has fainted, sir,” said Nicholas, darting eagerly for¬ 
ward. 

“ Poor dear, poor dear! Where is my brother Ned ? Ned, 
my dear brother, come here, pray.” 

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow,” replied his brother, 
hurrying into the room, “ what is the — ah! what-” 

“Hush! hush! —not a word for your life, Brother Ned. 
Ring for the housekeeper — call Tim Linkinwater! Here, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 335 

Tim Linkinwater, sir — Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, leave 
the room, I beg and beseech of you.” 

“ I think she is better now,” said Nicholas, who had been 
watching the patient so eagerly that he had not heard the 
request. 

“ Poor bird! ” cried Brother Charles, gently taking her 
hand in his and laying her head upon his arm. “ Brother 
Ned, my dear fellow, you will be surprised, I know, to witness 
this, in business hours; but-” here he was again re¬ 

minded of the presence of Nicholas and, shaking him by the 
hand, earnestly requested him to leave the room and to send 
Tim Linkinwater without an instant’s delay. 

Nicholas immediately withdrew, and on his way to the 
countinghouse met both the old housekeeper and Tim Linkin¬ 
water, jostling each other in the passage and hurrying to the 
scene of action with extraordinary speed. Without waiting 
to hear his message, Tim Linkinwater darted into the room 
and presently afterwards Nicholas heard the door shut and 
locked on the inside. 

He had abundance of time to ruminate on this discovery, 
for Tim Linkinwater was absent during the greater part of 
an hour, during the whole of which time Nicholas thought 
of nothing but the young lady and her exceeding beauty, and 
what could possibly have brought her there, and why they 
made such a mystery of it. The more he thought of all 
this, the more anxious he became to know who and what she 
was. “ I should have known her among ten thousand.” 
And with that he walked up and down the room and, recall¬ 
ing her face and figure (of which he had a peculiarly vivid 
remembrance), discarded all other subjects of reflections 
and dwelt upon that alone. 

At length Tim Linkinwater came back — provokingly cool, 
and with papers in his hand, and a pen in his mouth, as if 
nothing had happened. 


336 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Is she quite recovered? ” said Nicholas, impetuously. 

“ Who?” 

“ Who! ” 

“ What do you make, Mr. Nickleby,” said Tim, taking his 
pen out of his mouth, “ what do you make of four hundred and 
twenty-seven times three thousand two hundred and thirty- 
eight ? ” 

“ Nay, what do you make of my question first? I asked 
you-” 

“ About the young lady,” putting on his spectacles. “To 
be sure. Yes. Oh! she’s very well.” 

“ Very well, is she? ” 

“ Very well.” 

“ Will she be abfe to go home today ? ” 

“ She’s gone.” 

“ Gone! ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I hope she has not far to go ? ” looking earnestly at the 
other. 

“ Ay,” replied the immovable Tim, “ I hope she hasn’t.” 

Nicholas hazarded one or two further remarks, but it was 
evident that Tim Linkinwater had his own reasons for evad¬ 
ing the subject, and that he was determined to afford no fur¬ 
ther information respecting the fair unknown, who had 
awakened so much curiosity in the breast of his young friend. 
Nothing daunted by this repulse, Nicholas returned to the 
charge next day, emboldened by the circumstance of Mr. 
Linkinwater being in a very talkative mood; but he no sooner 
resumed the theme than Tim relapsed into a state of the most 
provoking taciturnity and, from answering in monosyllables, 
came to returning no answers at all v save such as were to be 
inferred upon several grave nods and shrugs, which only 
served to whet that appetite for intelligence in Nicholas, 
which had already attained a most unreasonable height. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


337 


Foiled in these attempts, he was fain to content himself 
with watching for the young lady’s next visit, but here again 
he was disappointed. Day after day passed, and she did not 
return. He looked eagerly at the superscription of all the 
notes and letters, but there was not one among them which 
he could fancy to be in her handwriting. 

He told Newman Noggs about this lovely girl, for whom 
he had taken such a fancy, and he and Newman tried to 
find her address; but though they searched many days and 
weeks, it seemed impossible to find any trace of her. 

Ever since her last momentous conversation with her son, 
Mrs. Nickleby had begun to display unusual care in the 
adornment of her person. Even her black dress assumed 
something of a deadly-lively air from the jaunty style in 
which it was worn. This was especially noticeable one day 
when Kate proposed that they should take their work into 
the summerhouse and enjoy the beauty of the afternoon. 
Mrs. Nickleby readily assented, and to the summerhouse 
they went without further discussion. 

“ Well, I will say,” observed Mrs. Nickleby, as she took 
her seat, “ that there never was such a good creature as 
Smike. Upon my word, the pains he has taken in putting 
this little arbour to rights and training the sweetest flowers 
about it are beyond anything I could have — I wish he 
wouldn’t put all the gravel on your side, Kate, my dear, 
though, and leave nothing but mould for me.” 

“ Dear mama, take this seat — do — to oblige me, mama.” 

“ No, indeed, my dear. I shall keep my own side. Well! 
I declare! 

Kate looked up inquiringly. 

“ If he hasn’t got from somewhere or other a couple of 
roots of those flowers that I said I was so fond of the other 
night, and asked you if you were not — no, that you said you 


338 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


were so fond of, the other night, and asked me if I wasn’t 
— it’s the same thing. Now upon my word, I take that as 
very kind and attentive indeed! I don’t see any of them, 
on my side, but I suppose they grow best near the gravel. 
You may depend upon it they do, Kate, and that’s the reason 
they are all near you, and he has put the gravel there, be¬ 
cause it’s the sunny side. Upon my word, that’s very 
clever now! I shouldn’t have had half so much thought 
myself! ” After a short pause Mrs. Nickleby was about 
to proceed on another discourse, when a loud “ Hem! ” 
which appeared to come from the very foundation of the 
garden wall gave both herself and her daughter a violent 
start. 

“ Mama! what was that ? ” 

“ Upon my word, my dear, unless it was the gentleman 
belonging to the next house I don’t know what it could pos¬ 
sibly -” 

“A — hem,” cried the same voice; and that not in the tone 
of an ordinary clearing of the throat but in a kind of bellow, 
which woke up all the echoes in the neighbourhood, and was 
prolonged to an extent which must have made the unseen 
bellower quite black in the face. 

“ I understand it now, my dear; don’t be alarmed, my 
love; it’s not directed to you; and it is not intended to frighten 
anybody. Let us give everybody their due, Kate; I am bound 
to say that.” 

So saying, Mrs. Nickleby nodded her head and patted 
the back of her daughter’s hand a great many times, and 
looked as if she could tell something vastly important if 
she chose, but had self-denial, thank heaven, and wouldn’t 
do it. 

“ What do you mean, mama ? ” 

“ Don’t be flurried, my dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, look¬ 
ing towards the garden wall, “ for you see I’m not, and if it 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


339 


would be excusable in anybody to be flurried, it certainly 
would — under all circumstances — be excusable in me, but 
I am not, Kate, not at all.” 

“ It seems designed to attract our attention, mama.” 

“ It is designed to attract our attention, my dear; at least, 
to attract the attention of one of us. Hem! you needn’t be 
at all uneasy, my dear.” 

Kate looked very much perplexed and was apparently about 
to ask for further explanation when a shouting and scuffling 
noise, as of an elderly gentleman whooping and kicking up 
his legs on loose gravel with great violence, was heard to 
proceed from the same direction as the former sounds; and 
before they had subsided, a large cucumber was seen to 
shoot up in the air with the velocity of a sky rocket, whence 
it descended, tumbling over and over, until it fell at Mrs. 
Nickleby’s feet. 

This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another 
of a precisely similar description; then a fine vegetable 
marrow, of unusually large dimensions, was seen to whirl 
aloft and come toppling down; then several cucumbers shot 
up together; finally the air was darkened by a shower of 
onions, turnips, radishes, and other small vegetables, which 
fell rolling and scattering and bumping about in all direc¬ 
tions. 

As Kate rose from her seat in some alarm, and caught her 
mother’s hand to run with her into the house, she felt her¬ 
self rather retarded than assisted in her intention and, fol¬ 
lowing the direction of Mrs. Nickleby’s eyes, was quite terri¬ 
fied by the apparition of an old black velvet cap, which, by 
slow degrees, as if its wearer were ascending a ladder or 
pair of steps, rose above the wall dividing their garden from 
that of the next cottage, and was gradually followed by a very 
large head and an old face, in which were a pair of most 
extraordinary grey eyes, very wild, very wide open, and 


340 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


rolling in their sockets, with a dull, languishing, leering look, 
most ugly to behold. 

“ Mama! why do you stop; why do you lose an instant ? 
Mama, pray come in! ” 

“ Kate, my dear, how can you be so foolish? I’m ashamed 
of you. How do you suppose you are ever to get through 
life if you’re such a coward as this? What do you want, 
sir ? How dare you look into this garden ? ” 

“ Queen of my soul,” replied the stranger, folding his 
hands together, “ this goblet sip 1 ” 

“ Nonsense, sir. Kate, my love, pray be quiet.” 

“ Won’t you sip the goblet? ” urged the stranger, with his 
head imploringly on one side, and his right hand on his 
breast. “ Oh, do sip the goblet! ” 

“ I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir. Pray 
begone.” 

“ Why is it,” said the old gentleman, coming up a step 
higher, and leaning his elbows on the wall with as much com¬ 
placency as if he were looking out a window, “ why is it 
that beauty is always obdurate, even when admiration is 
as honourable and respectful as mine?” Here he smiled, 
kissed his hand, and made several low bows. “ Is it owing 
to the bees, who, when the honey season is over, and they are 
supposed to have been killed with brimstone, in reality fly 
to Barbary and lull the captive Moors to sleep with their 
drowsy songs? Or is it,” he added, dropping his voice 
almost to a whisper, “ in consequence of the statue at Charing 
Cross having been lately seen on the Stock Exchange at mid¬ 
night, walking arm in arm with the Pump from Aldgate, in 
a riding habit ? ” 

“ Mama, do you hear him ? ” 

“ Hush, my dear! he is very polite, and I think that was a 
quotation from the poets. Pray, don’t worry me so — you’ll 
pinch my arm black and blue. Go away, sir! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 341 

“ Quite away ? ” said the gentleman, with a languishing 
look. “ Oh! quite away ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly. You have no business here. This is 
private property, sir; you ought to know that.” 

“ I do know,” said the old gentleman, laying his finger on 
his nose, with an air of familiarity most reprehensible, “ that 
this is a sacred and enchanted spot, where the most divine 
charms ” — here he kissed his hand and bowed again — 
“ waft mellifluousness over the neighbours’ gardens and force 
the fruit and vegetables into premature existence. That fact 
I am acquainted with. But you will permit me, fairest crea¬ 
ture, to ask you one question, in the absence of the planet 
Venus, who has gone on business to the Horse Guards and 
would otherwise — jealous of your superior charms — inter¬ 
pose between us ? ” 

“ Kate, it’s very awkward, positively. I really don’t 
know what to say to this gentleman. One ought to be civil, 
you know.” 

“ Dear mama, don’t say a word to him, but let us run 
away as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholas 
comes home.” 

Mrs. Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptu¬ 
ous, at this humiliating proposal and, turning to the old 
gentleman, who had watched them during these whispers 
with absorbing eagerness, said: 

“ If you will conduct yourself like the gentleman I should 
imagine you to be and will put your question to me in plain 
words, I will answer it.” 

He took off his black velvet cap and, exhibiting a perfectly 
bald head, made a long series of bows, each accompanied 
with a fresh kiss of the hand. After exhausting himself with 
this fatiguing performance, he covered his head once more, 
pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of his ears, and, 
resuming his former attitude, said, 


342 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ The question is-” 

Here he broke off to look round in every direction and satisfy 
himself beyond all doubt that there was no listeners near. 
Assured that there were not, he tapped his nose several times, 
accompanied the action with a cunning look, as though he 
congratulated himself on his caution, stretched out his 
neck, and said in a loud whisper, 

“ Are you a princess ? ” 

“ You are mocking me, sir,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, making 
a feint of retreating towards the house. 

No, but are you? ” said the old gentleman. 

“ You know I am not, sir.” 

“ Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canter¬ 
bury? Or to the Pope of Rome? Or the Speaker of the 
House of Commons? Forgive me if I am wrong, but I was 
told you were niece to the Commissioners of Paving and 
daughter-in-law to the Lord Mayor and Court of Common 
Council, which would account for your relationship to all 
three.” 

“ Whoever has spread such reports, sir, has taken great 
liberties with my name, and one which I am sure my son 
Nicholas, if he was aware of it, would not allow for an 
instant. The idea! Niece to the Commissioners of Pav¬ 
ing! ” . 

“ Pray, mama, come away! ” whispered Kate. 

“ Pray, mama! Nonsense, Kate, but that’s just the way. 
If they had said I was niece to a piping bullfinch, what would 
you care! But I have no sympathy,” whimpered Mrs. 
Nickleby, “ I don’t expect it, that’s one thing.” 

“ Tears! ” cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic 
jump that he fell down two or three steps and grated his 
chin against the wall. “ Catch the crystal globules — catch 
’em — bottle ’em up — cork ’em tight — put sealing wax on 
the top — seal ’em with a cupid — label ’em ‘ Best quality ’ 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 343 

— and stow ’em away in the fourteen bin, with a bar of iron 
on the top to keep the thunder off! ” 

Issuing these commands, he turned his velvet cap inside 
out, put it on with great dignity so as to obscure his right eye 
and three-fourths of his nose, and sticking his arms akimbo, 
looked very fiercely at a sparrow hard by till the bird flew 
away. He then put his cap in his pocket with an air of 
great satisfaction and addressed himself with respectful 
demeanour to Mrs. Nickleby. 

“ Beautiful madam, if I have made any mistake with re¬ 
gard to your family or connexions, I humbly beseech you to 
pardon me. If I supposed you to be related to Foreign 
Powers or Native Boards, it is because you have the manner, 
a carriage, a dignity which, you will excuse my saying, 
none but yourself (with the single exception of the tragic 
muse, when playing extemporaneously on the barrel organ 
before the East India Company) can parallel. I am not a 
youth, ma’am, as you see; and although beings like you can 
never grow old, I venture to presume that we are fitted for 
each other.” 

“ Really, Kate, my love! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, faintly and 
looking the other way. 

“ I have estates, ma’am,” said the old gentleman, flourish¬ 
ing his right hand negligently, as if he made very light of 
such matters, and speaking very fast, “ jewels, lighthouses, 
fish ponds, a whalery of my own in the North Sea, and several 
oyster beds of great profit in the Pacific Ocean. If you will 
have the kindness to step down to the Royal Exchange and to 
take the cocked hat off the stoutest beadle’s head, you will 
find my card in the lining of the crown, wrapped up in a piece 
of blue paper. My walking stick is also to be seen on 
application to the chaplain of the House of Commons, who 
is strictly forbidden to take any money for showing it. I 
have enemies about me, ma’am,” he looked towards his 


344 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

house and spoke very low, “ who attack me on all occasions 
and wish to secure my property. If you bless me with your 
hand and heart, you can apply to the Lord Chancellor or 
call out the military if necessary — sending my toothpick 
to the commander-in-chief will be sufficient — and so clear the 
house of them before the ceremony is performed. After that, 
love, bliss, and rapture; rapture, love, and bliss. Be mine, 
be mine! ” 

Repeating these last words with great rapture and en¬ 
thusiasm, the old gentleman put on his black velvet cap 
again and, looking up into the sky in a hasty manner, said 
something that was not quite intelligible concerning a 
balloon he expected and which was rather after its time. 

" Be mine, be mine! ” repeated the old gentleman. 

“ Kate, my dear, I have hardly the power to speak; but 
it is necessary for the happiness of all parties that this 
matter should be set at rest for ever.” 

“ Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word, 
mama?” 

“ You will allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for 
myself.” 

“ Be mine, be mine! ” cried the old gentleman. 

“ It can scarcely be expected, sir,” said Mrs. Nickleby, 
fixing her eyes modestly on the ground, 1 that I should tell 
a stranger whether I feel flattered and obliged by such pro¬ 
posals, or not. They certainly are made under very singular 
circumstances; still at the same time, as far as it goes, 
and to a certain extent, of course, they must be gratifying 
and agreeable to one’s feelings.” 

“ Be mine, be mine. Gog and Magog, Gog and Magog. 
Be mine, be mine! ” 

“ It will be sufficient for me to say, sir, that I’m sure you’ll 
see the propriety of taking an answer and going away — that 
I have made up my mind to remain a widow and to devote 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


345 


myself to my children. You may not suppose I am the 
mother of two children — indeed many people have doubted 
it and said that nothing on earth could ever make ’em believe 
it possible — but it is the case, and they are both grown up. 
We shall be very glad to have you for a neighbour — very 
glad; delighted, I’m sure — but in any other character it’s 
quite impossible, quite. As to my being young enough to 
marry again, that perhaps may be so, or it may not be; but 
I couldn’t think of it for an instant, not on any account what¬ 
ever. I said I never would, and I never will. It’s a very 
painful thing to have to reject proposals, and I would much 
rather that none were made; at the same time, this is the 
answer that I determined long ago to make, and this is the 
answer I shall always give.” 

These observations were partly addressed to the old gentle¬ 
man, partly to Kate, and partly delivered in soliloquy. 
Towards their conclusion, the suitor evinced a very irreverent 
degree of inattention, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely finished 
speaking when, to the great terror both of that lady and 
her daughter, he suddenly flung off his coat and, springing on 
the top of the wall, threw himself into an attitude which 
displayed his short knee breeches and grey worsted stockings 
to the fullest advantage, and concluded by standing on one 
leg and repeating his favourite bellow with increased vehe¬ 
mence. 

While he was still dwelling on the last note and embellish¬ 
ing it with a prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed 
to glide stealthily and swiftly along the top of the wall, as if 
in pursuit of a fly, and then to clasp one of the old gentle¬ 
man’s ankles. This done, the companion hand appeared 
and clasped the other ankle. 

Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awk¬ 
wardly once or twice, and then looking down on his own 
sicje of the w$ll hurst into a loud laugh. 


346 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ It’s you, is it? ” said the old gentleman. 

“ Yes, it’s me/’ replied a gruff voice. 

“How’s the Emperor of Tartary? ” said the old gentle¬ 
man. 

“ Oh! he’s much the same as usual,” was the reply. “ No 
better and no worse.” 

“ The young Prince of China,” said the old gentleman, with 
much interest, “ is he reconciled to his father-in-law, the 
great potato salesman?” 

“ No,” answered the gruff voice, “ and he says he never will 
be, that’s more.” ' 

“ If that’s the case, perhaps I’d better come down.” 

“ Well,” said the man on the other side, “ I think you had, 
perhaps.” 

One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old 
gentleman dropped into a sitting posture, and was looking 
round to smile and bow to Mrs. Nickleby when he disap¬ 
peared with some precipitation, as if his legs had been pulled 
from below. 

Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning 
to speak to her mother when the dirty hands again became 
visible and were immediately followed by the figure of a 
coarse squat man, who ascended by the steps which had 
been occupied by their singular neighbour. 

“ Beg your pardon, ladies,” said the newcomer, grinning and 
touching his hat. “ Has he been making love to either of 
you?” 

“ Yes,” said Kate. 

“Ah! ” rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of 
his hat and wiping his face, “he always will, you know. 
Nothing will prevent his making love.” 

“ I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor creature,” 
said Kate. 

“ Why no ; that’s pretty plain, that is.” 


347 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Has he been long so ? ” 

“A long while” 

“ And is there no hope for him ? ” 

Not a bit and don’t deserve to be,” replied the keeper. 
“ He’s a deal pleasanter without his senses than with ’em. 
He was the crudest, wickedest old flint that ever drawed 
breath.” 

“ Indeed! ” said'Kate. 

“ By George! I never came across such a vagabond, and 
my mate says the same. Broke his poor wife’s heart, turned 
his daughters out of doors, drove his sons into the streets; 
it was a blessing he went mad at last, through evil tempers, 
and guzzling and drinking, or he’d have drove many others 
so. Hope for him, an old rip! It’s good there isn’t much 
hope for such as him.” 

But Mrs. Nickleby said to her daughter on their way 
to the house: 

“ Why then, I just tell you this, Kate. That poor 
gentleman is not at all out of his mind. I am surprised that 
you can be so imposed upon. It’s some plot of these 
people to possess themselves of his property — didn’t he 
say so himself? He may be a little odd and flighty, per¬ 
haps; many of us are that; but downright insane! and express 
himself as he does, respectfully, and in quite poetical lan¬ 
guage, and making offers with so much thought and care and 
prudence — not as if he ran into the streets, and went down 
upon his knees to the first girl he met as a madman would. 
No, no, Kate, there’s a great deal too much method in his 
madness; depend upon that, my dear.” 


348 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XXVI 

O N the way home from an errand one evening Smike 
was looking in at the window of a jewelry store, wish¬ 
ing he could take some of the beautiful trinkets home as 
presents, when the clock struck three-quarters past eight. 
Roused by the sound, he hurried on at a quick pace and 
was crossing the corner of a by-street when he felt himself 
violently brought to, with a jerk so sudden that he was obliged 
to cling to a lamp post to save himself from falling. At the 
same moment, a small boy clung tight round his leg, and a 
shrill cry of “ Here he is, father! Hooray! ” vibrated in his 
ears. 

Smike knew that voice too well. He cast his despairing 
eyes downward towards the form from which it had pro¬ 
ceeded, and, shuddering from head to foot, looked round. 
Mr. Squeers had hooked him in the coat collar with the handle 
of his umbrella, and was hanging on at the other end with 
all his might and main. The cry of triumph proceeded from 
Master Wackford, who, regardless of all his kicks and strug¬ 
gles, clung to him with the tenacity of a bulldog! 

One glance showed Smike this, and in that one glance the 
terrified boy became utterly powerless and unable to utter 
a sound. 

“ Here’s a go! ” cried Mr. Squeers, gradually coming hand¬ 
over-hand down the umbrella, and only unhooking it when 
he had got tight hold of the victim’s collar. “ Here’s a deli¬ 
cious go. Wackford, my boy, call up one of them coaches.” 
“ A coach, father! ” 

“ Yes, a coach, sir,” feasting his eyes upon the countenance 
of Smike. “ Darn the expense. Let’s have him in a coach.” 
“ What’s he been doing of? ” asked a labourer with a hod 



Here he is, father. Hooray! ” vibrated in his ears 

































350 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


of bricks, against whom and a fellow labourer Mr. Squeers 
had backed, on the first jerk of the umbrella. 

“ Everything! ” looking fixedly at his old pupil in a sort 
of rapturous trance. “Everything — running away, sir — 
joining in bloodthirsty attacks upon his master — there’s 
nothing that’s bad that he hasn’t done. Oh, what a delicious 
go is this here, good Lord! ” 

The man looked from Squeers to Smike, but such mental 
faculties as the poor fellow possessed had utterly deserted 
him. The coach came up, Master Wackford entered, Squeers 
pushed in his prize, and, following close at his heels, pulled up 
the glasses. The coachman mounted his box and drove 
slowly off. 

Mr. Squeers sat himself down on the opposite seat to the 
unfortunate Smike and, planting his hands firmly on his 
knees, looked at him for some five minutes when, seeming to 
recover from his trance, he uttered a loud laugh and slapped 
his old pupil’s face several times — taking the right and left 
sides alternately. 

“ It isn’t a dream. That’s real flesh and blood! I know 
the feel of it! ” And being quite assured of his good fortune 
by the experiments, Mr. Squeers administered a few boxes 
on the ear, lest the entertainment should seem to partake of 
sameness, and laughed louder and longer at every one. 

“ Mother will be fit to jump out of her skin, my boy, when 
she hears of this.” 

“ Oh, won’t she though, father.” 

“ To think that you and me should be turning out of a street, 
and come upon him at the very nick; and that I should have 
him tight, at only one cast of the umbrella, as if I had hooked 
him with a grappling iron! Ha, ha! ” 

“ Didn’t I catch hold of his leg, neither, father? ” 

“You did, like a good ’un, my boy,” patting his son’s head, 
“ and you shall have the best button-over jacket and waist- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


351 


coat that the next new boy brings down, as a reward of merit. 
Mind that. You always keep on in the same path, and do 
them things that you see your father do, and when you die 
you’ll go right slap to heaven and no questions asked.” 

Improving the occasion in these words, Mr. Squeers patted 
his son’s head again, and then patted Smike’s — but harder, 
and inquired in a bantering tone how he found himself by 
this time. 

“ I must go home,” said Smike, looking wildly round. 

“ To be sure you must. You’re about right there. You’ll 
go home very soon, you will. You’ll find yourself at the 
peaceful village of Dotheboys, in Yorkshire, in something 
under a week’s time, my young friend; and the next time 
you get away from there, I give you leave to keep away. 
Where’s the clothes you run off in, you ungrateful robber? ” 

Smike glanced at the neat attire which the care of Nicholas 
had provided for him and wrung his hands. 

“ Ho you know that I could hang you up outside of the 
Old Bailey for making away with them articles of property ? 
Do you know that it’s a hanging matter—eh? Do you 
know that? What do you suppose was the worth of them 
clothes you had? Do you know that that Wellington 
boot you wore cost eight-and-twenty shillings when it was a 
pair, and the shoe seven and six? But you came to the right 
shop for mercy when you came to me, and thank your stars 
that it is me as has got to serve you with the articles.” 

He followed up the remark by poking Smike in the chest 
with the ferrule of his umbrella, and dealing a smart shower 
of blows, with the ribs of the same instrument, upon his head 
and shoulders. 

“ I never thrashed a boy in a hackney coach before,” said 
Mr. Squeers, when he stopped to rest. “ There’s incon¬ 
venience in it, but the novelty gives it a sort of relish, too! ” 

Poor Smike! He warded off the blows as well as he 


352 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

could and shrank into a corner of the coach with his head 
resting on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. He was 
stunned and stupefied, and had no more idea that any act 
of his would enable him to escape from the all-powerful 
Squeers, now that he had no friend to speak to or advise with, 
than he had had in all the weary years of his Yorkshire life 
which preceded the arrival of Nicholas. 

The journey seemed endless; street after street was entered 
and left behind; and still they went jolting on. At last Mr. 
Squeers began to thrust his head out of the window every half- 
minute and to bawl a variety of directions to the coachman; 
and after passing with some difficulty through several mean 
streets, which the appearance of the houses and the bad 
state of the road showed to have been recently built, Mr. 
Squeers suddenly tugged at the check string with all his 
might, and cried: 

“Stop! ” 

“What are you pulling a man’s arm off for?” said the 
coachman, looking angrily down. 

“ That’s the house. The second of them four little houses, 
one story high, with the green shutters. There’s a brass 
plate on the door, with the name of Snawley.” 

“ Couldn’t you say that without wrenching a man’s limbs 
off his body ? ” 

“No! ” bawled Mr. Squeers. “Say another word, and 
I’ll summon you for having a broken winder. Stop! ” 

Obedient to this direction, the coach stopped at Mr. 
Snawley’s door. Mr. Snawley may be remembered as the 
sleek and sanctified gentleman who confided two stepsons to 
the parental care of Mr. Squeers. Mr. Snawley’s house was 
on the extreme borders of some new settlements adjoining 
Somers Town. Mr. Squeers had taken lodgings therein for 
a short time, as his stay was longer than usual, and as the 
Saracen, having had experience of young Master Wackford’s 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 353 

appetite, declined to receive him on any terms than as a 
full-grown customer. 

“ Here we are! ” said Squeers, hurrying Smike into the 
little parlor, where Mr. Snawley and his wife were taking a 
lobster supper. “ Here’s the vagrant — the felon — the rebel 
— the monster of unthankfulness.” 

“ What! The boy that run away! ” cried Snawley, resting 
his knife and fork upright on the table and opening his eyes 
to their full width. 

“ The very boy,” said Squeers, putting his fist close to 
Smike’s nose, and drawing it away again, and repeating the 
process several times with a vicious aspect. “ If there 

w'asn’t a lady present, I’d fetch him such a-; never mind, 

I’ll owe it to him.” 

Mr. Squeers related where, when, and in what manner he 
had picked up the runaway. 

“ It’s clear that there has been a Providence in it, sir,” said 
Mr. Snawley, casting down his eyes with an air of humility 
and elevating his fork, with a bit of lobster on the top of it, 
towards the ceiling. 

“ Providence is against him, no doubt,” replied Mr. Squeers, 
scratching his nose. “ Of course, that was to be expected. 
Anybody might have known that.” 

“ Hard-heartedness and evil-doing will never prosper, sir,” 
said Mr. Snawley. 

“ Never was such a thing known,” rejoined Squeers, taking 
a little roll of notes from his pocketbook to see that they 
were all safe. 

“ I have been, Mrs. Snawley,” said Mr. Squeers, when he 
had satisfied himself upon this point, “ I have been that 
chap’s benefactor, feeder, teacher, and clother. I have been 
that chap’s classical, commercial, mathematical, philosophical, 
and trigonomical friend. My son — my only son, Wack- 
ford— has been his brother. Mrs. Squeers has been his 


354 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

mother, grandmother, aunt, — ah! and I may say uncle too, 
all in one. She never cottoned to anybody, except them two 
engaging and delightful boys of yours, as she cottoned to this 
chap. What’s my return? What’s come of my milk of 
human kindness? It turns into curds and whey when I 
look at him.” 

“ Well it may, sir,” said Mrs. Snawley. “ Oh, well it may, 
sir.” 

“Where has he been all this time?” inquired Snawley. 
“ Has he been living with-? ” 

“Ah, sir!” interposed Squeers, confronting him again. 
“ Have you been living with that there devilish Nickleby, 
sir? ” 

But no threats or cuffs could elicit from Smike one word of 
reply to this question; for he had internally resolved that 
he would rather perish in the wretched prison to which he 
was again about to be consigned than utter one syllable which 
could involve his first and true friend. 

Finding every effort useless, Mr. Squeers conducted him to 
a little back room upstairs, where he was to pass the night. 
Taking the precaution of removing his shoes, and coat, and 
waistcoat, and also of locking the door on the outside, lest 
he should muster up sufficient energy to make an escape, that 
worthy gentleman left him to his meditations. 

The night, fraught with so much bitterness to one poor 
soul, had given place to a bright and cloudless summer morn¬ 
ing, when a north-country mail coach clattered onward 
to its halting place near the post office. 

The only outside passenger was a burly, honest-looking 
countryman on the box, who, with his eyes fixed upon the 
dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, appeared so wrapt in admiring 
wonder as to be quite insensible to all the bustle of getting out 
the bags and parcels, until one of the coach windows, being 
let sharply down, he looked round and encountered a pretty 
female face which was just then thrust out. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


355 


“ See there, lass! ” bawled the countryman, pointing to¬ 
wards the object of his admiration. “ There be Paul's 
Church. ’Ecod, he be a soizable ’un, he be.” 

“ Goodness, John! I shouldn’t have thought it could have 
been half the size. What a monster! ” 

“Monsther!—Ye’re aboot right theer, I reckon, Mrs. 
Browdie,” said the countryman, good-humouredly, as he came 
slowly down in his huge topcoat, “ and wa’at dost thee tak’ 
yon place to be noo — thot ’un ower the way? Ye’d never 
coom near it ’gin ye thried for twolve moonths. It’s na’ but 
a poast office! Ho! ho! ” 

So saying, John Browdie — for he it was — opened the 
coach door and, tapping Mrs. Browdie, late Miss Price, on 
the cheek as he looked in, burst into a boisterous fit of laugh¬ 
ter. 

“Well! ” said John. “Dang my bootuns if the bean’t 
asleep agean! ” 

“ She’s been asleep all night, and was all yesterday, except 
for a minute or two now and then,” replied John Browdie’s 
choice, “ and I was very sorry when she woke, for she has been 
so cross.” 

The subject of these remarks was a slumbering figure, so 
muffled in shawl and cloak that it would have been a matter of 
impossibility to guess at its sex but for a brown beaver bonnet 
and green veil which ornamented the head, and which, having 
been crushed and flattened for two hundred and fifty miles 
in that particular angle of the vehicle from which the lady’s 
snc.res now proceeded, presented a very funny appearance. 

“ Hollo! ” cried John, twitching one end of the dragged 
veil. “ Coom, wakken oop, will ’ee? ” 

After several attempts at burrowings into the old corner, 
and many exclamations of impatience and fatigue, the figure 
struggled into a sitting posture; and there, under a mass of 
crumpled beaver and surrounded by a semicircle of blue curl 
papers, were the delicate features of Miss Fanny Squeers. 


356 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Oh, ’Tilda! How you have been akicking of me through 
this blessed night! ” 

“ Well, I do like that,” replied her friend, laughing, “ when 
you have had nearly the whole coach to yourself.” 

“ Don’t deny it, ’Tilda, because you have, and it’s no use 
to go attempting to say you haven’t. You mightn’t have 
known it in your sleep, ’Tilda, but I haven’t closed my eyes 
for a single wink, and so I think I am to be believed.” 

With which reply, Miss Squeers adjusted the bonnet and, 
evidently flattering herself that it looked uncommonly neat, 
brushed off the sandwich crumbs and bits of biscuit which 
had accumulated in her lap and, availing herself of John 
Browdie’s proffered arm, descended from the coach. 

“ Noo,” said John, when a hackney coach had been called 
and the ladies and the luggage hurried in, “ gang to the Sarah’s 
Head, murr.” 

“ To the vere? ” cried the coachman. 

“ Lawk, Mr. Browdie! ” interrupted Miss Squeers. “ The 
idea! Saracen’s Head.” 

“ Sure-ly, I know’d it was something aboot Sarah’s Son’s 
Head. Dost thou know thot ? ” 

“ Oh, ah! I know that,” replied the coachman gruffly, as he 
banged the door. 

“ ’Tilda, dear, really we shall be taken for I don’t know 
what.” 

“ Let them tak’ us as the foind us, we dean’t come to 
Lunnun to do nought but ’joy oursel, do we? ” 

“ I hope not, Mr. Browdie.” 

“ Well, then, it’s no matther. I’ve only been married 
fower days, ’count of poor old feather deeing and puttin’t 
off. Here be a weddin’ party — broide and broidesmaid, and 
the groom — if a mun dean’t ’joy himself noo, when ought 
he, hey? Drat it all, thot’s what I want to know.” 

When they reached the Saracen’s Head Hotel, the party 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


357 


straightway retired to rest, the refreshment of sleep being 
necessary after so long a journey. They met again about noon 
at a substantial breakfast, spread by direction of Mr. John 
Browdie, in a small private room upstairs, commanding a 
view of the yard and stables. 

Miss Squeers now appeared dressed in a manner which 
would attract a great deal of attention anywhere. She wore 
a white dress with a broad pink belt around her waist, a large 
white muslin bonnet with a very large pink rose on the inside, 
and the top trimmed all over with little pink roses. Her hair 
was curled in such tight corkscrew curls that it was im¬ 
possible for them to come out by any accident. Coral 
bracelets made of beads strung together (rather short of 
beads and with a visible black string) clasped her wrists, and 
a long chain of the same beads hung around her neck with a 
large red crystal heart hanging from this, typical of her own 
disengaged affections. 

Even the waiter looked very hard at Miss Squeers as he 
handed her the muffins. 

“ Is my pa in, do you know? ” said Fanny Squeers with an 
air of great importance. 

“ Beg your pardon, miss? ” said the waiter. 

“ My pa; is he in? ” 

“ In where, miss ? ” 

“ In here — in the hotel! My pa — Mr. Wackford Squeers 
— he’s stopping here. Is he at home ? ” 

“ I didn’t know there was any gen’lman of that name in the 
house, Miss. There may be in the coffee room.” 

May be! Very pretty this, indeed! Here was Miss 
Squeers, who had been depending all the way to London upon 
showing her friends how much respectful notice her name and 
connexions would excite, told that her father might be there! 
“As if he was a feller!” observed Miss Squeers, with 
emphatic indignation. 


358 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“Ye’d betther inquire, mun,” said John Browdie. “An’ 
hond up another pigeon pie, will ’ee? Dang the chap,” 
muttered John, looking into the empty dish as the waiter 
retired; “ does he ca’ this a pie — three young pigeons and a 
troifling matther o’ steak, and a crust so loight that you 
doant know when it’s in your mooth and when it’s gane? 
I wonder hoo many pies goes to a breakfast! ” 

After a short interval, which John Browdie employed upon 
the ham and a cold round of beef, the waiter returned with 
another pie, and the information that Mr. Squeers was not 
stopping in the house, but that he came there every day and 
that, when he arrived, he should be shown upstairs. With 
this he retired, and he had not retired two minutes when he 
returned with Mr. Squeers and his hopeful son. 

“ Why, who’d have thought of this ? ” said Mr. Squeers, 
when he had saluted the party and received some private 
family intelligence from his daughter. 

“ Who, indeed, pa! But you see ’Tilda is married at 
last.” 

“ And I stond threat for a soight o’ Lunnun, schoolmeas- 
ther,” said John, vigorously attacking the pie. 

“ One of them things that young men do when they get 
married and as runs through with their money like nothing 
at all! How much better wouldn’t it be now to save 
it up for the eddication of any little boys, for instance. 
They come on you before you’re aware of it; mine did 
upon me.” 

“ Will ’ee pick a bit? ” said John. 

“I won’t myself, but if you’ll just let little Wackford 
tuck into something fat, I’ll be obliged to you. Give it him 
in his fingers, else the waiter charges it on, and there’s lot of 
profit on this sort of vittles without that. If you hear the 
waiter coming, sir, shove it in your pocket, and look out 
the window, d’ye hear ? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


359 


“ I’m awake, father.” 

“ Well,” said Squeers, turning to his daughter, “ it’s your 
turn to be married next. You must make haste.” 

“ Oh, I’m in no hurry,” said Fanny Squeers. 

“ What do you think ? Who do you suppose we have laid 
hands on, Wackford and me? ” said her father, exultingly. 

“ Pa! not Mr.-? ” Miss Squeers w r as unable to finish 

the sentence, but Mrs. Browdie did it for her, and added, 
“ Nickleby ? ” 

“ No, but next door to him, though.” 

“You can’t mean Smike?” cried Miss Squeers, clapping 
her hands. 

“ Yes, I can though, I’ve got him, hard and fast.” 

“Wa’at!” exclaimed John Browdie, pushing away his 
plate. “ Got that poor — dom’d scoundrel ? Where ? ” 

“ Why, in the top back room at my lodging, with him on 
one side and the key on the other.” 

“ At thy loodgin’ ! Thee’st gotten him at thy loodgin’ ? 
Ho, ho! The schoolmeasther agin all England! Give us 
thee hond, mun; I’m darned but I must shak thee by the 
hond for thot — gotten him at thy loodgin’ ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Squeers, staggering in his chair under the 
congratulatory blow on the chest which the stout Yorkshire- 
man dealt him; “thankee. Don’t do it again. You mean 
it kindly, I know, but it hurts rather. Yes, there he is. 
That’s not so bad, is it ? ” 

“ Ba’ad! It’s eneaf to scare a mun to hear tell on.” 

“ I thought it would surprise you a bit. It w r as pretty 
neatly done, and pretty quick, too.” 

“ Hoo wor it ? Tell us all aboot it, mun; coom, quick! ” 

Although he could not keep pace with John Browdie’s im¬ 
patience, Mr. Squeers related the lucky chance by which 
Smike had fallen into his hands as quickly as he could and, 
except when he was interrupted by the admiring remarks 


360 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

of his auditors, paused not in the recital until he had brought 
it to an end. 

“ For fear he should give me the slip, by any chance, I’ve 
taken three outside seats for tomorrow morning on the coach, 
for Wackford and him and me — and have arranged to leave 
the accounts and the new boys to the agent, don’t you see? 
So it’s very lucky you come today, or you’d have missed us; 
as it is, unless you could come and tea with me tonight, we 
shan’t see anything more of you before we go away.” 

“ Eean’t say anoother wurd,” shaking him by the hand. 
“ We’d coom, if it was twonty mile,” said Mr. Browdie, 
quickly. 

“ No, would you though? ” returned Mr. Squeers, who had 
not expected quite such a ready acceptance of his invitation, 
or he would have considered twice before he gave it. 

John Browdie’s only reply was another squeeze of the 
hand and an assurance that they would not begin to see 
London till tomorrow, so that they might be at Mr. Snawley’s 
at six o’clock without fail. After some further conversation, 
Mr. Squeers and his son departed. 

During the remainder of the day, Mr. Browdie was in a 
very odd and excitable state, bursting occasionally into an 
explosion of laughter and then taking up his hat and running 
into the coachyard to have it out by himself. He was very 
restless, too, constantly walking in and out, and snapping 
his fingers, and dancing scraps of uncouth country dances, 
and, in short, conducting himself in such a very extraordinary 
manner that Miss Squeers thought he was going mad, and, 
begging her dear ’Tilda not to distress herself, communicated 
her suspicions in so many words. Mrs. Browdie, however, 
without discovering any great alarm, observed that she had 
seen him so once before and that, although he was almost 
sure to be ill after it, it would not be anything very serious, 
and therefore he was better left alone. 


,361 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

The result proved her to be perfectly correct; for while 
they were all sitting in Mr. Snawley’s parlor that night 
just as it was beginning to get dusk, John Browdie was taken 
so ill and seized with such an alarming dizziness in the head 
that the whole company were thrown into the utmost con¬ 
sternation. His good lady was the only person present who 
retained presence of mind enough to observe that, if he were 
allowed to lie down on Mr. Squeers’s bed for an hour or so 
and were left entirely to himself, he would be sure to recover 
again almost as quickly as he had been taken ill. Accordingly, 
John was supported upstairs, with great difficulty (being a 
monstrous weight and regularly tumbling down two steps 
every time they hoisted him up three) and, being laid on the 
bed, was left in charge of his wife, who after a short interval 
re-appeared in the parlour, with the gratifying intelligence 
that he had fallen fast asleep. 

Now the fact was, at that particular moment, that John 
Browdie was sitting on the bed, with the reddest face ever 
seen, cramming the corner of the pillow into his mouth to 
prevent his roaring out loud with laughter. He had no 
sooner succeeded in suppressing this emotion than he slipped 
off his shoes and, creeping to the adjoining room where the 
prisoner was confined, turned the key, which was on the 
outside, and darting in, covered Smike’s mouth with his 
huge hand before he could utter a sound. 

“ Ods bobs, dost thee not know me, mun ? ” whispered the 
Yorkshireman to the bewildered lad. “ Browdie. Chap as 
met thee efther schoolmeasther was banged ? ” 

“ Yes, yes. Oh! help me.” 

“ Help thee! ” replied John, stopping his mouth again, 
the instant he had said thus much. “ Thee didn’t need help, 
if thee wam’t as silly yoongster as ever draw’d breath. 
Wa’at did ’ee come here for, then? ” 

“ He brought me; oh! he brought me! ” 


362 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“Brout thee! Why didn’t ’ee punch his head, or lay 
theeself doon and kick, and squeal out for the pollis? I’d 
ha’ licked a doozen such as him when I was yoong as thee. 
But thee be’est a poor broken-doon chap, and God forgi’ me 
for bragging ower yan o’ his weakest creeturs! ” 

Smike opened his mouth to speak, but John Browdie 
stopped him. 

“ Stan’ still and doant ’ee speak a morsel o’ talk till I 
tell ’ee.” 

With this caution, John Browdie shook his head signifi¬ 
cantly and, drawing a screw driver from his pocket, took off 
the box of the lock in a very deliberate and workmanlike 
manner, and laid it, together with the implement, on the 
floor. 

“ See thot? Thot be thy doin’. Noo, coot awa’ ! ” 

Smike looked vacantly at him, as if unable to comprehend 
his meaning. 

“I say, coot awa’. Dost thee know where thee livest? 
Thee dost? Week Are yon thy clothes, or schoolmeasther’s? ” 

“ Mine,” replied Smike, as the Yorkshireman hurried him 
to the? adjoining room and pointed out a pair of shoes and 
coat which were lying on a chair. 

“ On wi’ ’em! ” said John, forcing the wrong arm into the 
wrong sleeve and winding the tails of the coat round the 
fugitive’s neck. “ Noo foller me, and when thee get’st 
ootside door, turn to the right, and they wean’t see thee 
pass.” 

“ But — but — he’ll hear me shut the door,” replied Smike, 
trembling from head to foot. 

“ Then dean’t shut it at all. Dang it, thee bean’t afeared o’ 
schoolmeasther’s takkin cold, I hope?” 

“ N-no,” said Smike, his teeth chattering in his head. 
“ But he brought me back before, and will again. He will, 
he will indeed.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


363 


“ He wull, he wull? He wean’t, he wean’t. Look’ee! I 
wan’t to do this neighbourly loike, and let them think thee’s 
gotten awa’ o’ theeself, but if he cooms oot o’ that parlour 
awhiles thee’rt clearing off, he mun’ have mercy on his oun 
boans, for I wean’t. If he foinds it oot, soon efther, I’ll put 
un on a wrong scent, I warrant ’ee. But if thee keep’st a 
good heart, thee’ll be at whoam afore they know thee’st 
gotten off. Coom! ” 

Smike, who comprehended just enough of this to know it 
was intended as encouragement, prepared to follow with tot¬ 
tering steps when John whispered in his ear. 

“ Thee’lt just tell yoong measther, that I’m sploiced to ’Tilly 
Price, and to be heerd on at the Saracen by latther, and that 
I bean’t jealous of ’un — dang it, I’m loke to boost when I 
think o’ that neight! ’Cod, I think I see ’un now, a powderin’ 
awa’ at the thin bread and butther! ” 

It was rather a ticklish recollection for John just then, for 
he was within an ace of breaking out into a loud guffaw. 
Restraining himself, however, just in time, by a great effort, 
he glided downstairs, hauling Smike behind him; then placing 
himself close to the parlour door to confront the first person 
that might come out, he signed to Smike to make off. 

Having got so far, Smike needed no second bidding. 
Opening the house door gently and casting a look of mingled 
gratitude and terror at his deliverer, he took the direction 
which had been indicated to him and sped away like the 
wind. 

Without stopping for a moment to reflect upon which way 
to go, he fled away with surprising swiftness, borne upon 
such wings as only Fear can wear and, impelled by imaginary 
shouts in the well-remembered voice of Squeers, who, with 
a crowd of pursuers, seemed to the poor fellow’s disordered 
senses to press hard upon his track. After a time the dark¬ 
ness and quiet of a country road made him think about his 


364 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

surroundings, and the starry sky above warned him of the 
rapid flight of time. Covered with dust, and panting for 
breath, he stopped to listen and look about him. 

All was still and silent. A glare of light in the distance, 
casting a warm glow upon the sky, marked where the huge 
city of London lay. He now made for this with almost the 
same speed as that with which he had left the temporary 
abode of Mr. Squeers. By the time he entered it, the greater 
part of the shops were closed. There were only a few people 
on the streets, but of these Smike asked his way from time to 
time until he reached the dwelling of Newman Noggs. 

All that evening Newman had been hunting and searching 
in byways and corners for the very person who now knocked 
at his door, while Nicholas had been pursuing the same in¬ 
quiry in other directions. Newman was sitting, with a 
melancholy air, at his poor supper when Smike’s timorous and 
uncertain knock reached his ears. Alive to every sound, in 
his anxious and expectant state, Newman hurried down 
stairs and, uttering a cry of joyful surprise, dragged the wel¬ 
come visitor into the passage and up the stairs, and said 
not a word until he had him safe in his own garret and the 
door was shut behind them, when he mixed a great mugful of 
gin and water and, holding it to Smike’s mouth, as one might 
hold a bowl of medicine to the lips of a refractory child, 
commanded him to drink it all. 

Newman looked blank when he found that Smike scarcely 
put his lips to the precious mixture; he was in the act of 
raising the mug to his own mouth with a deep sigh of com¬ 
passion for his poor friend when Smike, beginning to relate 
his adventures, stopped him halfway, and he stood listening, 
with the mug in his hand. 

Soon he deposited the mug upon the table and limped up 
and down the room in great excitement. When John Browdie 
was mentioned, he dropped, by slow and gradual degrees 


365 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

into a chair, and then, as the story reached the climax, 
burst at last into a laugh composed of one loud sonorous 
“ Ha, ha! ” Having given vent to which, his countenance 
immediately fell again, as he inquired with the utmost anxiety 
whether it was probable that John Browdie and Squeers had 
come to blows. 

“No! I don’t think so,” replied Smike. “ I don’t think 
he could have missed me till I had got quite away.” 

Newman scratched his head with a show of great dis¬ 
appointment and, once more lifting up the mug, applied him¬ 
self to the contents, smiling meanwhile over the rim with a 
grim and ghastly smile at Smike. Then he said: 

“You shall stay here tonight. You’re tired — fagged. 
I’ll tell them you’re come back. They have been half-crazy 
about you. Mr. Nicholas-” 

“ God bless him! ” cried Smike. 

“ Amen! ” returned Newman. “ He hasn’t had a minute’s 
rest or peace; no more has the old lady, nor Miss Nickleby.” 

“No, no. Has she thought about me?” said Smike. 
“ Has she thought ? Oh, has she ? Don’t tell me so, if she has 
not.” 

“She has,” cried Newman. “She is as noble-hearted as 
she is beautiful.” 

“ Yes, yes! ” cried Smike. “ Well said! ” 

“ So mild and gentle,” said Newman. 

“ Yes, yes! ” cried Smike, with increasing eagerness. 

“And yet with such a true and gallant spirit,” pursued 
Newman. 

He was going on in his enthusiasm when, chancing to look 
at Smike, he saw that he had covered his face with his 
hands and that tears were on his face. A moment before, 
the boy’s eyes were sparkling with an unusual fire, and every 
feature had been lighted up with an excitement which made 
him appear, for the moment, quite a different being. 


366 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Well, well,” muttered Newman, as if he were a little 
puzzled. At length he repeated his proposition that Smike 
should remain where he was for that night and that he, 
Noggs, should go to the cottage to relieve the suspense of 
the family. But as Smike would not hear of this — pleading 
his anxiety to see his friends again — they eventually sallied 
forth together. The night being by this time far advanced 
and Smike being so footsore that he could hardly crawl 
along, it was within an hour of sunrise when they reached 
the cottage of the Nickleby’s. 

At the first sound of their voices outside the house, Nicho¬ 
las, who had passed a sleepless night devising schemes for 
the recovery of his lost charge, started from his bed and joy¬ 
fully admitted them. There was so much noisy conversation 
and congratulation and indignation that the remainder 
of the family were soon awakened, and Smike received a 
warm and cordial welcome not only from Kate but from Mrs. 
Nickleby also, who assured him of her future favour and 
regard and was so obliging as to relate for his entertainment 
and that of the assembled circle a most remarkable account 
from some work, the name of which she had never known, 
of a miraculous escape from some prison, but what prison 
she couldn’t remember, effected by an officer whose name 
she had forgotten, confined for some crime she didn’t clearly 
recollect. 

Nicholas made up his mind that he should certainly try 
to have the schoolmaster receive a severe punishment, if pos¬ 
sible, but he did not know exactly how to bring this about. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


I N one of the smallest sitting rooms in the hotel, a tea 
table was displayed in neat and inviting order. On 
the table were joints of roast and boiled, a tongue, a pigeon 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 367 

pie, a cold fowl, a tankard of ale, and other little matters 
of the kind. 

Mr. John Browdie, with his hands in his pockets, hovered 
restlessly about these delicacies. 

“Tilly! ” said John to his lady, who was reclining half- 
asleep upon a sofa. 

“Well, John! ” 

“ Weel, John-” retorted her husband, impatiently. 

“ Dost thou feel hoongry, lass ? ” 

“ Not very.” 

“ Not vary! Hear her say 'not vary’ and us dining at 
three, and loonching off pasthry thot aggravates a mon ’stead 
of pacifying him; Not vary! ” 

“ Here’s a gent’l’man for you, sir,” said the waiter, looking 
in. 

“ A wa’at for me? ” 

“A gent’l’man, sir.” 

“ Stars and garthers, chap, wa’at dost thou coom in and 
say thot for? In wi’ um.” 

“ Are you at home, sir? ” 

“ At whoam! I wish I were. I’d ha tea’d two hours ago. 
Why, I told t’other chap to look sharp ootside door, and tell 
’un d’rectly he coom thot we were faint wi’ hoonger. In wi’ 
un. — Aha! Thee hond, Mister Nickleby. This is nigh to 
be the proodest day o’ my life, sir. Hoo be all wi’ ye? 
Ding! But I’m glod o’ this! ” 

Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his 
salutation, John Browdie shook Nicholas by the hand again 
and again, slapping his hand with great violence to add 
warmth to the reception. 

“ Aha! There she be,” said John, observing the look which 
Nicholas directed towards his wife. “ There she be — we 
shan’t quarrel about her noo — Eh ? Ecod, when I think o’ 
thot — but thou want’st soom’at to eat. Fall to, mun, faff 
to, and for wa’at we’re aboot to receive-” r 


368 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing more 
was heard, for John had already begun to play such a knife 
and fork that his speech was, for the time, gone. 

“ You remember the night of our first tea drinking? ” said 
Nicholas. 

“ Shall I e’er forget it, mun? ” 

“ He was a desperate fellow that night, though, was he 
not,” said Mrs. Browdie. “ Quite a monster ? If you had 
only heard him as we were going home, Mr. Nickleby, you’d 
have said so indeed. I never was so frightened in all my 
life.” 

“ Coom, coom,” said John, with a broad grin; “thou 
know’st better than thot, Tilly.” 

“ So I was. I almost made up my mind never to speak to 
you again.” 

“A’most! ” said John with a broader grin than the last, 
“a’most made up her mind! And she wur coaxin’ and coaxin’ 
and wheedlin’ and wheedlin’ a’ the blessed wa’. ‘ Wa’at 
dids’t thou let yon chap mak’ oop tiv’ ’ee for? ’ I says. 1 1 
deedn’t, John,’ says she, squeedgin my arm. f You deedn’t! ’ 
says I. ‘ Noa! ’ says she, a squeedgin of me again.” 

“Lor, John! ” interposed his pretty wife, colouring very 
much. “ How can you talk such nonsense? As if I should 
have dreamt of such a thing! ” 

“ I dinnot know whether thou’d ever dreamt of it, but 
thou didst it.” 

“‘Ye’re a feeckle, changeable weathercock, lass,’ says I. 

“ ‘ Not feeckle, John,’ says she. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says I, * feeckle, dom’d feeckle. Dinnot tell me 
thou bean’ efther yon chap at schoolmeasther’s,’ says I. 

“ ‘ Him! ’ says she, quite screeching. 

“ ‘ Ah! him! ’ says I. 

“ ‘ Why John,’ says she — and she coom a deal closer and 
squeedged a deal harder than she’d deane afore, ‘ dost thou 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


369 


think that having such a mun as thou to keep company wi’, 
I’d ever tak’ oop wi’ such a leetle scanty whippersnapper as 
yon ? ’ she says. Ha! ha! ha! She said whippersnapper! 
4 Ecod! ’ I says, ‘efther thot, neame the day, and let’s have 
it ower! ’ Ha, ha, ha! ” 

Nicholas laughed very heartily at this story, both on ac¬ 
count of its telling against himself and of his being desirous 
to spare the blushes of Mrs. Browdie, whose protestations 
were drowned in peals of laughter from her husband. His 
good nature soon put her at her ease; and although she still 
denied the charge, she laughed so heartily at it that Nicholas 
had the satisfaction of feeling assured that in all essential 
respects it was strictly true. 

“ This is the second time,” said Nicholas, that we have 
ever taken a meal together, and only the third I have ever 
seen you; and yet it really seems to me as if I were among 
old friends.” 

“ Weel, so I say,” observed the Yorkshireman. 

“ And I am sure I do,” added his young wife. 

“ I have the best reason to be impressed with the feeling,” 
said Nicholas, “ for if it had not been for your kindness of 
heart, my good friend, when I had no right or reason to 
expect it, I know not what might have become of me or what 
plight I should have been in by this time.” 

“ Talk aboot soom’at else, and dinnot bother,” replied 
John, gruffly. 

“It must be a new song to the same tune then,” said 
Nicholas, smiling. “ I told you in my letter that I deeply 
felt and admired your sympathy with that poor lad, whom 
you released at the risk of involving yourself in trouble; 
but I can never tell you how grateful he and I, and others 
whom you don’t know, are to you for taking pity on 
him.” 

“Ecod! and I can never tell you hoo grateful soom folks 


370 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


that we do know would be loikewise, if they’d knowed I had 
taken pity on him.” 

“Ah! ” exclaimed Mrs. Browdie, “what a state I was in, 
that night! ” 

“ Did they think you had anything to do with assisting in 
the escape ? ” 

“Not a bit,” said John, extending his mouth from ear 
to ear. “ There I lay, snoog in schoolmeasther’s bed long 
efther it was dark, and nobody coom nigh the place. ‘ Weel! ’ 
thinks I, ‘ he’s got a pretty good start, and if he bean’t whoam 
by noo, he never will be; so you may coom as quick as you 
loike, and foind us reddy.’ Presently he did coom. I heered 
door shut doonstairs, and him a warking oop in the daark. 
‘ Slow and steddy,’ I says to myself, ‘ tak you time, sir — no 
hurry.’ He cooms to the door, turns the key — turns the 
key when there warn’t nothing to hoold the lock! — and 
ca’as oot, ‘ Hallo, there! ’ — ‘ Yes,’ thinks I, ‘you may do 
thot agean, and not wakken anybody, sir.’ ‘ Hallo, there,’ 
he says, and then he stops. ‘ Thou’d betther not aggravate 
me,’ says schoolmeasther, efther a little time. ‘ I’ll brak’ 
every boan in your boddy, Smike,’ he says, efther another 
little time. Then all of soodden, he sings oot for a loight, 
and when it cooms — ecod, such a hoorly-boorly! ‘ Wa’at’s 

the matter? ’ says I. ‘ He’s gane,’ says he, — stark mad wi’ 
vengeance. ‘Have you heard nought?’ ‘ Ees,’ says I, ‘I 
heerd street door shut, no time at a’ ago. I heered a person run 
doon there ’ (pointing t’other way) ‘ Help! ’ he cries. ‘ I’ll help 
you,’ says I; and off we set — the wrong way! Ho, ho, ho! ” 

“ Did you go far? ” 

“ Far! I run him clean off his legs in quarter of an hoor. 
To see old schoolmeasther wi’out his hat, skimming along over 
fences and rowling along up to his knees in mud and wather, 
tumbling over fences and into ditches, bawling oot like mad, 
wi’ his one eye looking sharp out behind and him spattered 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 371 

wi’ mud all ower, face and all! I thot I *should ha’ dropped 
doon and killed myself wi’ laughing.” 

John laughed so heartily at the mere recollection that all 
three burst into peals of laughter, which were renewed again 
and again, until they could laugh no longer. 

“ He’s a bad ’un,” said John, wiping his eyes; “a very bad 
’un, is schoolmeasther.” 

“ I can’t bear the sight of him, John,” said his wife. 

“ Coom, thot’s tidy in you, thot is. If it wa’nt along o’ 
you we shouldn’t know nought aboot ’un. Thou know’d ’un 
first, Tilly, didn’t thou ? ” 

“ I couldn’t help knowing Fanny Squeers, John. She was 
an old playmate of mine, you know.” 

“ Weel, dean’t I say so, lass? It’s best to be neighbourly 
and keep up old acquaintance, loike; and what I say is, 
dean’t quarrel if ’ee can help it. Dinnot think so, Mr. 
Nickleby ? ” 

“ Certainly, and you acted upon that principle when I 
met you on horseback on the road after our memorable 
evening.” 

“ Surely. Wa’at I say, I stick by.” 

“ And that’s a fine thing to do, and manly, too. Miss 
Squeers is stopping with you, you said in your note.” 

“ Yes, Tilly’s bridesmaid; and a queer bridesmaid she be, 
too. She wean’t be a bride in a hurry, I reckon.” 

“ For shame, John,” said Mrs. Browdie. 

“ The groom will be a blessed man,” said John, his eyes 
twinkling at the idea. “ He’ll be in luck, he will.” 

“ You see, Mr. Nickleby,” said his wife, “ that it was in 
consequence of her being here that John wrote to you and 
fixed tonight, because we thought that it wouldn’t be pleasant 
for you to meet after what has passed.” 

“ Unquestionably. You were quite right in that,” said 
Nicholas, interrupting. 


372 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ John fixed tonight, because she had settled that she would 
go and drink tea with her father. And to make quite sure 
of there being nothing amiss and of your being quite alone 
with us, he settled to go out there and bring her home .” 

“ That was a very good arrangement, though I am sorry 
to be the occasion of so much trouble.” 

“ Not the least in the world, for we have looked forward 
to seeing you — John and I — with the greatest possible 
pleasure. Do you know, Mr. Nickleby,” said Mrs. Browdie, 
with her archest smile, “ that I really think Fanny Squeers 
was very fond of you ? ” 

“ I am very much obliged to her, but upon my word, I 
never aspired to making any impression upon her virgin 
heart.” 

“ How you talk,” tittered Mrs. Browdie. “ No, but do 
you know that really — seriously now, and without any 
joking — I was given to understand by Fanny herself that 
you had made an offer to her and that you two were going 
to be engaged quite solemn and regular.” 

“ Was you, ma’am — was you ? ” cried a shrill female 
voice, “ was you given to understand that I — I — was going 
to be engaged to an assassinating thief that shed the gore of 
my pa ? Do you — do you think, ma’am — that I was very 
fond of such dirt beneath my feet, as I couldn’t condescend to 
touch with kitchen tongs, without blackening and crocking 
myself by the contact? Do you, ma’am? Do you? Oh, 
base and degrading ’Tilda! ” 

With these reproaches Miss Squeers flung the door wide 
open, and disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Browdies and 
Nicholas, not only her own symmetrical form, arrayed in the 
chaste white garments before described (a little dirtier), but 
the form of her brother and father, the pair of Wackfords. 

“ This is the hend, is it ? ” continued Miss Squeers, who 
being excited, aspirated her h’s strongly; “ this is the hend, 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 373 

is it, of all my forebearance and friendship for that double- 
faced thing — that viper, that — that — mermaid? ” 

Miss Squeers hesitated a long time for this last epithet, and 
brought it out triumphantly at last. “ This is the hend, is 
it, of all my bearing with her deceitfulness, her lowness, her 
falseness, her laying herself out to catch the admiration of 
vulgar minds, in a way which made me blush for my — for 
my-” 

“ Gender,” suggested Mr. Squeers, regarding the spectators 
with a malevolent eye; literally a malevolent eye. 

“ Yes,” said Miss Squeers; “ but I thank my stars that my 
ma is of the same.” 

“ Hear, hear! ” remarked Mr. Squeers; “and I wish she 
was here to have a scratch at this company.” 

“ This is the hend, is it,” said Miss Squeers, tossing her 
head, and looking contemptuously at the floor, “ of my taking 
notice of that rubbishing creature, and demeaning myself to 
patronise her ? ” 

“ Oh, come,” rejoined Mrs. Browdie, disregarding all the 
endeavours of her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself 
into a front row, “ don’t talk such nonsense as that.” 

“Have I not patronised you, ma’am?” demanded Miss 
Squeers. 

“ No.” 

“ I will not look for blushes in such a quarter,” said Miss 
Squeers, haughtily, “ for that countenance is a stranger to 
everything but hignominiousness and red-faced boldness.” 

“I say,” interposed John Browdie, nettled by these accu¬ 
mulated attacks on his wife, “ dra’ it mild, dra’ it mild.” 

“ You, Mr. Browdie, I pity. I have no feeling for you, 
sir, but one of unliquidated pity.” 

“ Oh! ” said John. 

“ No,” said Miss Squeers, looking sidewise at her parent, 
“ although I am a queer bridesmaid and shan’t be a bride in 


374 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

a hurry, and although my husband will be in luck, I entertain 
no sentiments towards you, sir, but sentiments of pity.” 

Here Miss Squeers looked sideways at her father again, 
who looked sideways at her, as much as to say, “ There you 
had him.” 

“ I know what you’ve got to go through,” said Miss Squeers, 
shaking her curls violently. “ I know what a life is before 
you; and if you was my bitterest and deadliest enemy, I 
could wish you nothing worse.” 

“ Couldn’t you wish to be married to him yourself, if that 
was the case ? ” 

“ Oh, ma’am, how witty you are, almost as witty, ma’am, 
as you are clever. How very clever it was in you, ma’am, to 
choose a time when I had gone to tea with my pa, and was 
sure not to come back without being fetched! What a pity 
you never thought that other people might be as clever as 
yourself and spoil your plans! ” 

“ You won’t vex me, child, with such airs as these.” 

“ Don’t Missis me, ma’am, if you please. I’ll not bear it. 
Is this the hend-” 

“ Dang it a’,” cried John Browdie, impatiently. “ Say thee 
say out, Fanny, and mak’ sure it’s .the end, and dinnot ask 
nobody whether it is or not.” 

“ Thanking you for your advice, which was not required, 
Mr. Browdie, have the goodness not to meddle with my 
Christian name. Even my pity shall never make me forget 
what’s due to myself, Mr. Browdie. — ’Tilda,” said Miss 
Squeers, with such sudden violence that John started in his 
boots, “ I renounce you. I wouldn’t,” cried Miss Squeers 
in a solemn voice, “ have a child named ’Tilda, not to save 
it from its grave.” 

“ As for the matter o’ that,” observed John, “ it’ll be time 
eneaf to think aboot neaming of it when it cooms.” 

“John! ” interposed his wife, “ don’t tease her.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


375 


“Oh, tease, indeed!” cried Miss Squeers, bridling up. 
“Tease, indeed; He! he! Tease, too! No, don’t tease 
her. Consider her feelings, pray! ” 

“ If it’s fated that listeners are never to hear any good 
of themselves,” said Mrs. Browdie, “ I can’t help it, and I 
am very sorry for it. But I will say, Fanny, that times out 
of number I have spoken so kindly of you behind your back 
that even you could have found no fault with what I said.” 

“ Oh, I dare say not, ma’am,” cried Miss Squeers, with a 
curtsey. “ Best thanks to you for your goodness, and begging 
and praying you not to be too hard upon me another time.” 

“ I don’t know,” resumed Mrs. Browdie, “ that I have 
said anything very bad of you, even now. At all events, what 
I did say was quite true; but if I have, I am very sorry for it, 
and I beg your pardon. You have said much worse of me 
scores of times, Fanny, but I have never born any malice 
to you, and I hope you’ll not bear any to me.” 

Miss Squeers made no more direct reply than surveying 
her former friend from top to toe and elevating her nose 
in the air with disdain. But some indistinct allusions to a 
“ puss ” and a “ minx ” and a “ contemptible creature ” 
escaped her; and this, with a severe biting of the lips, great 
difficulty in swallowing, and very frequent comings and goings 
of breath, seemed to imply that feelings were swelling in Miss 
Squeers’s bosom too great for utterance. 

While the foregoing conversation was proceeding, Master 
Wackford, finding himself unnoticed, had sidled up to the 
table and attacked the food with such light skirmishing as 
drawing his fingers round and round the inside of the plates, 
and afterwards sucking them with infinite relish; picking the 
bread and dragging the pieces over the surface of the butter; 
pocketing lumps of sugar, pretending all the time to be 
absorbed in thought. Finding that no interference was at¬ 
tempted with these* small liberties he gradually mounted 


376 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


to greater, and after helping himself to a good cold collation, 
was by this time deep in the pie. 

Nothing of this had been unobserved by Mr. Squeers, 
who, so long as the attention of the company was fixed upon 
other objects, hugged himself to think that his son and heir 
should be fattening at the enemy’s expense. But there being 
now a temporary calm, in which the proceedings of little 
Wackford could scarcely fail to be observed, he feigned to be 
aw r are of the circumstance for the first time and inflicted 
upon the face of that young gentleman a slap that made the 
very teacups ring. 

“ Eating of what his father’s enemies has left! It’s fit to 
go and poison you, you unnat’ral boy.” 

“ It wean’t hurt him,” said John, “ let ’un eat. I wish the 
whole school was here. I’d give ’em soom’ut to stay their 
unfort’nate stomachs wi’, if I spent the last penny I had! ” 

Squeers scowled at him with the worst and most malicious 
expression of which his face was capable and shook his fist 
stealthily. 

“ Coom, coom, schoolmeasther, dinnot make a fool o’ thy¬ 
self; for if I was to sheake mine — only once — thou’d fa’ 
doon wi’ the wind o’ it.” 

“ It was you, was it,” returned Squeers, “ that helped off 
my runaway boy ? It was you, was it ? ” 

“ Me! Yes, it wa’ me. Coom, wa’at o’ that! It wa’ me. 
Noo then! ” 

“ You hear him say he did it, my child! ” appealing to his 
daughter. “You hear him say he did it! ” 

“ Did it! ” cried John. “ I’ll tell ’ee more; hear this, too. 
If thou’d get another roonaway boy, I’d do it agean. If 
thou’d got twonty roonaway boys, I’d do it twonty times 
ower, and twonty more to thot; and I’ll tell thee more, noo 
my blood is oop, that thou’t an old ra’ascal; and that it’s 
weel for thou, thou be’st an old ’un, or I’d ha poonded thee 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 377 

to flour when thou told an honest mun hoo’ thou flicked that 
poor chap in th’ coach.” 

“ An honest man! ” cried Squeers, with a sneer. 

“ Ah! An honest man, honest in ought but ever putting 
legs under seame table wi’ such as thou.” 

“ Scandal! ” said Squeers, exultingly. “ Two witnesses 
to it; Wackford knows the nature of an oath, he does; we 
shall have you there, sir. Rascal, eh? ” Mr. Squeers took 
out his pocketbook and made a note of it. “ Very good. I 
should say that was worth full twenty pound at the next 
assizes, without the honesty, sir.” 

“ ’Soizes! Thou’d betther not talk to me o’ ’soizes. York¬ 
shire schools have been shown up at ’soizes afore noo, mun, 
and it’s a ticklish soobject to revive, I can tell ye.” 

Mr. Squeers shook his head in a threatening manner, looking 
very white with passion and, taking his daughter’s arm 
and dragging little Wackford by the hand, retreated towards 
the door. 

“ As for you,” said Squeers, turning round and addressing 
Nicholas, who, as he had caused him to smart pretty soundly 
on a former occasion, purposely abstained from taking any 
part in the discussion, “ see if I ain’t down upon you before 
long. You’ll go a kidnapping of boys, will you? Take 
care their fathers don’t turn up, and send them back to me 
to do as I like with, in spite of you.” 

“ I am not afraid of that,” replied Nicholas, shrugging his 
shoulders contemptuously and turning away. 

“Ain’t you! ” retorted Squeers, with a diabolical look. 
“ Now, then, come along.” 

“ I leave such society, with my pa for hever,” said Miss 
Squeers, looking contemptuously and loftily round. “ I am 
defiled by breathing the air with such creatures. Poor Mr. 
Browdie! He, he, he! I do pity him, that I do; he’s so 
deluded! He, he, he! — Artful and designing ’Tilda! ” 


378 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most 
majestic wrath, Miss Squeers swept from the room and, 
having sustained her dignity until the last possible moment, 
was heard to sob and scream and struggle in the passage. 

John Browdie remained standing behind the table, looking 
from his wife to Nicholas and back again, with his mouth 
wide open, until his hand accidentally fell upon the tankard 
of ale. He took it up and, having obscured his features 
therewith for some time, drew a long breath, handed it over to 
Nicholas, and rang the bell. 

“ Here, waither. Look alive here. Tak’ these things 
awa’, and let’s have soomat broiled for sooper — vary com¬ 
fortable and plenty o’ it — at ten o’clock. Bring some brandy 
and some water and a pair o’ slippers — the largest pair in 
the house — and be quick aboot it. Dash ma’ wig! ” said 
John, rubbing his hands, “ there’s no ganging oot to neeght, 
noo, to fetch anybody whoam, and ecod we’ll begin to spend 
the evening in airnest! ” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

M R. NICKLEBY,” said Brother Charles one day, call¬ 
ing him aside and taking him kindly by the hand, 
“ I — I — am anxious, my dear sir, to see that you are 
properly and comfortably settled in the cottage. I wish, 
too, to see your mother and sister: to know them, Mr. 
Nickleby, and have an opportunity of relieving their minds 
by assuring them that any trifling service we have been able 
to do them is a great deal more than repaid by the zeal and 
ardour you display. — Not a word, my dear sir, I beg. To¬ 
morrow is Sunday. I shall make bold to come out at tea 
time and take the chance of finding you at home. If you are 
not, you know, or the ladies should feel a delicacy in being 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


379 


intruded on, and would rather not be known to me just now. 
why I can come again another time; any other time would 
do for me. Let it remain upon that understanding/’ 

There was a mighty bustle in the Nickleby home that 
night and a vast quantity of preparation for the expected 
visitor. If the cottage ever looked pretty, it must have 
been on such a bright and sunshiny day as the next day was. 
But Smike’s pride in the garden or Mrs. Nickleby’s in the 
condition of the furniture was nothing to the pride with 
which Nicholas looked at Kate herself; and surely the 
costliest mansion in all England might have found in her 
beautiful face and graceful figure its most exquisite and 
peerless ornament. 

About six o’clock in the afternoon Mrs. Nickleby was 
thrown into a great flutter of spirits by the long-expected 
knock at the door; nor was this flutter at all composed by 
the audible tread of two pairs of boots in the passage, which 
Mrs. Nickleby said in a breathless state, must be “ the two 
Mr. Cheerybles,” as it certainly was, though not the two 
Mrs. Nickleby expected. It was Mr. Charles Cheeryble 
and his nephew, Mr. Frank. This young man had just re¬ 
turned from Germany where he had superintended a part 
of the business for five years. He made a thousand apolo¬ 
gies for his intrusion, which Mrs. Nickleby (having tea¬ 
spoons enough and to spare for all) most graciously received. 
Nor did the appearance of this unexpected visitor occasion 
the least embarrassment (save in Kate, and that only to the 
extent of a blush or two at first), for the old gentleman was 
so kind and cordial, and the young gentleman imitated him 
in this respect so well, that the usual stiffness and formality 
of a first meeting showed no sign of appearing, and Kate 
more than once detected herself in the act of wondering when 
it was going to begin. 

After tea there was a walk in the garden, and the evening 


380 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


being very fine, they strolled out at the garden gate into 
some lanes and by-roads, and sauntered up and down until 
it grew quite dark. The time seemed to pass very quickly 
with all the party. Kate walked, leaning upon her brother’s 
arm and talking with him and Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who 
was on her other side. Mrs. Nickleby and the elder gentle¬ 
man followed at a short distance. Smike (who, if he had 
ever been an object of interest in his life, had been one that 
day) accompanied them, joining sometimes one group and 
sometimes the other, as Brother Charles, laying his hand upon 
his shoulder, bade him walk with him, or Nicholas, looking 
smilingly round, beckoned him to come and talk with the old 
friend who understood him best and could win a smile into 
his careworn face when none else could. 

There was a quiet mirth about the little supper which 
harmonized exactly with this tone of feeling and lasted until 
at length the two gentlemen took their leave. There was 
one circumstance in the leave-taking which occasioned a vast 
deal of smiling and pleasantry; and that was Mr. Frank 
Cheeryble’s offering his hand to Kate twice over, quite for¬ 
getting that he had bade her adieu already. 

• * * * 

“ Sir Mulberry Hawk gone out of town! ” said Ralph, 
slowly. “ A mistake of yours. Go back again.” 

“No mistake,” returned Newman. “Not even going; 
gone.” 

“ Has he turned girl or baby ? ” muttered Ralph, with a 
fretful gesture. 

“ I don’t know, but he’s gone.” 

“ And where has he gone? ” asked Ralph. 

“France. Danger of another attack of erysipelas — a 
worse attack — in the head. So the doctors ordered him 
off. And he’s gone.” 



381 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ And Lord Frederick-? ” 

“ He’s gone, too.” 

“ An d he carries his drubbing with him, does he! Pockets 
his bruises and sneaks off without the retaliation of a word 
or seeking the smallest reparation.” 

“ He’s too ill.” 

“ Too hi! Why I would have had it if I were dying. In 
that case I would only be the more determined to have it, 
and without delay — I mean if I were he. But he’s too ill! 
Poor Sir Mulberry! Too ill! ” 

Uttering these words with supreme contempt and great 
irritation of manner, Ralph signed hastily to Newman to 
leave the room and, throwing himself into his chair, beat his 
foot impatiently upon the ground. 

“ There is some spell about that boy,” said Ralph, grinding 
his teeth. “ Circumstances conspire to help him. Talk of 
fortune’s favors! What is even money to such devil’s luck 
as this! Hawk will come back, however, and his wrath will 
have lost nothing of its violence in the meanwhile. Obliged 
to live in retirement — the monotony of a sick room to a 
man of his habits — no life — no drink — no play — nothing 
that he likes and lives by. He is not likely to forget his 
obligation to the cause of all this. Few men would, but he 
of all others? No, no! ” 

He smiled and shook his head and, resting his chin upon his 
hand, fell a-musing, and smiled again. After a time he rose 
and rang the bell. 

“ That Mr. Squeers, has he been here ? ” 

“ He was here last night. I left him here when I went 
home,” returned Newman. 

“ I know that, fool, do I not ? Has he been here this 
morning ? ” 

“ No,” bawled Newman, in a very loud key. 

“ If he comes while I am out — he is pretty sure to be 


382 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


here by nine tonight — let him wait. And if there’s another 
man with him, as there will be perhaps, let him wait, too.” 

“ Let ’em both wait? ” said Newman. 

“ Ay. Help me on with this spencer, and don’t repeat 
after me like a croaking parrot.” 

“ I wish I was a parrot,” said Newman, sulkily. 

“ I wish you were. I’d have wrung your neck long ago,” 
Ralph said as he went out. 

The sky had been lowering and dark for some time, and the 
commencement of a violent storm of rain finally drove him 
for shelter to a tree. He was leaning against it with folded 
arms, still buried in thought, when, happening to raise his 
eyes, he suddenly met those of a man who, creeping round 
the trunk, peered into his face with a searching look and, 
stepping close up to Ralph, pronounced his name. 

Astonished for the moment, Ralph fell back a couple of 
paces and surveyed, from head to foot, a thin, dark, withered 
man, of about his own age, with a stooping body, and a very 
sinister face rendered more ill-favoured by hollow and hungry 
cheeks deeply sunburnt. 

The man saw the recognition was mutual and addressed him 
in a hoarse*, faint tone. 

“ You would hardly have known me from my voice, I 
suppose, Mr. Nickleby ? ” 

“ No, though there is something in that that I remember 
now.” 

“ There is little in me that you can call to mind as having 
been there eight years ago, I dare say ? ” 

“ Quite enough,” said Ralph, carelessly, and averting his 
face, “ more than enough.” 

“ If I had remained in doubt about you, Mr. Nickleby, this 
reception and your manner would have decided me very soon.” 

“ Did you expect any other ? ” asked Ralph, sharply. 

“ No! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 383 

“ You are right,” growled Ralph, “ and, as you feel no 
surprise, need express none.” 

“ Mr. Nickleby, will you hear a few words that I have to 
say? ” 

“ I am obliged to wait here till the rain holds a little. If 
you talk, sir, I shall not put my fingers in my ears, though 
your talking may have as much effect as if I did.” 

“ I was once in your confidence,” the man began. 

Ralph looked round and smiled involuntarily. 

“ I mean as much in your confidence as you ever chose to 
let anybody be.” 

“Ah! ” rejoined Ralph, folding his arms, “that’s another 
thing, quite another thing.” 

“ Don’t let us play upon words, Mr. Nickleby, in the name 
of humanity.” 

“ Of what? ” 

“ Of humanity,” replied the other, sternly. “ I am hungry 
and in want. If the change that you must see in me after so 
long an absence will not move you to pity, let the knowledge 
that bread — a crust of dry hard bread — is beyond my reach 
today — let that have some weight with you if nothing else 
has.” 

“ If this is the usual form in which you beg, you have 
studied your part well; but if you will take advice from one 
who knows something of the world and its ways, I should 
recommend a lower tone; a little lower tone, or you stand 
a fair chance of being starved in good earnest.” 

As he said this, Ralph looked at him whom he addressed 
with a frowning, sullen face. The very picture of a man 
whom nothing could move or soften. 

“ Yesterday was my first day in London,” said the old 
man, glancing at his travel-stained dress and worn shoes. 

“It would have been better for you, I think, if it had 
been your l^gt also,” replied Ralph. 


384 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I have been seeking you these two days where I thought 
you were most likely to be found, and I met you here at 
last when I had almost given up the hope of encountering 
you, Mr. Nickleby.” 

He seemed to wait for some reply, but Ralph giving him 
none, he continued: 

“I am a most miserable and wretched outcast, nearly 
sixty years old, and as destitute and helpless as a child of 
six.” 

“ I am sixty years old, too, and am neither destitute nor 
helpless. Work. Don’t make fine play-acting speeches 
about bread, but earn it.” 

“How? Where? Show me the means. Will you give 
them to me ? ” 

“I did once; you scarcely need ask me whether I will 
again.” 

“ It’s twenty years ago or more since you and I fell out. 
You remember that ? I claimed a share in the profits of some 
business I brought to you, and as I persisted, you arrested 
me for an old advance of ten pounds, odd shillings, including 
interest at fifty per cent or so.” 

“ I remember something of it. What then? ” 

“ That didn’t part us. I made submission, being on the 
wrong side of the bolts and bars; and as you were not the 
made man then that you are now, you were glad enough to 
take back a clerk who wasn’t overnice and who knew some¬ 
thing of the trade you drove.” 

“You begged and prayed, and I consented. That was 
kind of me. Perhaps I did want you. I forget. I should 
think I did, or you would have begged in vain. You were 
useful, not too honest, not too delicate, not too nice of hand 
or heart, but useful.” 

“Useful, indeed! Come. You had pinched and ground 
ine dow^ for some years before that, but I had served you 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 385 

faithfully up to that time, in spite of all your dog’s usage. 
Had I? ” 

Ralph made no reply. 

“ Had I?” 

“ You had had your wages and had done your work. We 
stood on equal ground so far and could both cry quits.” 

“ Then, but not afterwards.” 

“ Not afterwards, certainly, nor even then, for (as you 
have just said) you owed me money, and do still.” 

“That’s not all.* That’s not all. Mark that. I didn’t 
forget that old sore, trust me. Partly in remembrance of 
that and partly in the hope of making money some day by 
the scheme, I took advantage of my position about you, and 
possessed myself of a hold upon you which you would give 
half of all you own to know, and never can know but through 
me. I left you — long after that time, transported for some 
poor trickery that came within the law, but was nothing to 
what you money makers daily practise just outside its 
bounds — was sent away, a convict, for seven years. I have 
returned what you see me. Now, Mr. Nickleby, what help 
and assistance will you give me; what bribe to speak out 
plainly? My expectations are not monstrous, but I must 
live, and to live I must eat and drink. Money is on your 
side, and hunger and thirst are on mine. You may drive an 
easy bargain.” 

“ Is that all? ” 

“ It depends on you, Mr. Nickleby, whether that’s all or 
not.” 

“Why, then, harkye, Mr.-, I don’t know by what 

name I am to call you,” said Ralph. 

“ By my old one, if you like.” 

“Why, then, harkye, Mr. Brooker, and don’t expect to 
draw another speech from me. Harkye, sir. I know you of 
old for a ready scoundrel, but you never had a stout heart; 


386 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


and hard work, with (maybe) chains upon those legs of 
yours and shorter food than when I ‘ pinched ’ and ‘ ground ’ 
you, has blunted your wits, or you would not come with such 
a tale as this to me. You a hold upon me! Keep it, or pub¬ 
lish it to the world, if you like.” 

“ I can’t do that. That wouldn’t serve me.” 

“ Wouldn’t it? It will serve you as much as bringing it to 
me, I promise you. To be plain with you, I am a careful man 
and know my affairs thoroughly. I know the world, and 
the world knows me. Whatever you gleaned, or heard, or 
saw, when you served me, the world knows and magnifies 
already. I am reviled or threatened every day by one man 
or another, but things roll on just the same, and I don’t grow 
poorer either.” 

“ I neither revile nor threaten*. I can tell you of what 
you have lost by my act, what I only can restore, and what, 
if I die without restoring, dies with me, and never can be 
regained.” 

“ I tell my money pretty accurately and generally keep it 
in my own custody. I look sharply after most men that I 
deal with, and most of all I looked sharply after you. You 
are welcome to all you have kept from me.” 

“ Are those of your own name dear to you ? If they 


“ They are not,” returned Ralph, exasperated at this per- 
severence, and the thought of Nicholas, which the last ques¬ 
tion awakened. “ They are not. If you had come as a com¬ 
mon beggar, I might have thrown a sixpence to you in re¬ 
membrance of the clever knave you used to be; but since you 
try to palm these stale tricks upon one you might have known 
better, I’ll not part with a halfpenny — nor would I to save 
you from routing. And remember this, ’scapegallows, that 
if we meet again and you so much as notice me by one begging 
gesture, you shall see the inside of a jail once more. There’s 
my answer to your trash. Take it.” 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


387 


With a disdainful scowl at the object of his anger, who met 
his eye but uttered not a word, Ralph walked away at his 
usual pace, without manifesting the slightest curiosity to see 
what became of his late companion or indeed once looking 
behind him. 

The man remained on the same spot with his eyes fixed 
upon Ralph’s retreating figure until it was lost to view, 
and then drawing his arms about his chest, as if the damp 
and lack of food struck coldly to him, lingered with slouch¬ 
ing steps by the wayside and begged of those who passed 
along. 

Ralph, in no wise moved by what had lately occurred, 
walked deliberately on and took his way through some streets 
at the west end of the town until he arrived in that one in 
which stood the residence of Madame Mantalini. The name 
of that lady no longer appeared on the doorplate, that of Miss 
Knag being substituted in its stead; but the bonnets and 
dresses were still in the first-floor windows. 

“ Humph! ” muttered Ralph, surveying the house from 
top to bottom; “ these people look pretty well. They can’t 
last long; but if I know of their going, in good time, I am 
safe, and a fair profit too. I must keep them closely in 
view, that’s all.” 

He was leaving the spot when his quick ear caught the 
sound of a confused noise and hubbub of voices, mingled with 
a great running up and down stairs. While he was hesi¬ 
tating whether to knock at the door or listen at the keyhole, 
a female servant of Madame Mantalini’s opened it abruptly 
and bounced out, with her blue cap ribbons streaming in 
the air. 

“ Hallo here. Stop! ” cried Ralph. “ What’s the matter ? 
Here am I. Didn’t you hear me knock? ” 

“ Oh! Mr. Nickleby, sir. Go up, for the love of gracious. 
Master’s been and done it again.” 

“ Done what? What d’ye mean? ” 


388 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I knew he would if he was drove to it,” cried the girl. 
“ I said so all along.” 

“ Come here, you silly wench,” said Ralph, catching her by 
the wrist, “ and don’t carry family matters to the neighbours, 
destroying the credit of the establishment. Come here, 
do you hear me, girl ? ” 

Without any further expostulation, he led or rather pulled 
the frightened handmaid into the house and shut the door; 
then bidding her walk upstairs before him, followed without 
more ceremony. 

Guided by the noise of a great many voices all talking 
together, Ralph quickly reached the private sitting room 
when he was rather amazed by the confused scene in which 
he suddenly found himself. 

There were present all the young lady workers, in vari¬ 
ous attitudes expressive of alarm and consternation. Some 
were gathered round Madame Mantalini, who was in tears 
upon one chair. Others were gathered round Miss Knag, 
who was in opposition tears upon another; and others were 
round Mr. Mantalini, who was perhaps the most striking 
figure in the whole group. Mr. Mantalini’s legs were ex¬ 
tended at full length upon the floor, and his head and shoul¬ 
ders were supported by a very tall footman, who didn’t seem 
to know what to do with them. Mr. Mantalini’s eyes were 
closed; his face was pale; his hair was comparatively straight; 
his whiskers and moustache were limp; and his teeth were 
clenched. He had a little bottle in his right hand, a little 
teaspoon in his left, and his hands, arms, legs, and shoulders 
were all stiff and powerless. And yet Madame Mantalini 
was not weeping upon the body, but was scolding violently 
upon her chair; and all this amidst a clamour of tongues, 
perfectly deafening, which really appeared to have driven 
the unfortunate footman to the utmost verge of distraction. 

“ What is the matter here? ” said Ralph, pressing forward. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


389 


At this inquiry, the clamour was increased twentyfold, and 
an astounding string of such shrill contradictions as “ He’s 
poisoned himself ” — “ He’s dying ” — “ Send for a doctor ” 
— “ Don’t ” — “ He hasn’t ” — “ He isn’t, he’s only pretend¬ 
ing ” — with various other cries, poured forth with bewilder¬ 
ing volubility, until Madame Mantalini was seen to address 
herself to Ralph, when female curiosity to know what she 
would say prevailed, and, as if by general consent, a dead 
silence, unbroken by a single whisper, instantaneously suc¬ 
ceeded. 

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini, “ by what chance 
you came here, I don’t know.” 

Here a gurgling voice was heard to ejaculate, as part of 
the wanderings of a sick man, “ Demnition sweetness! ” 
But nobody heeded them except the footman, who, being 
startled to hear such awful tones from between his very fin¬ 
gers, dropped his master’s head upon the floor with a pretty 
loud crash and, then without an effort to lift it up, gazed upon 
the bystanders as if he had done something rather clever. 

“ I will, however,” continued Madame Mantalini, drying 
her eyes, and speaking with great indignation, “ say before 
you, and before everybody here, once for all, that I never 
will supply that man’s extravagances and viciousness again. 
I have been a dupe and a fool to him long enough. In future 
he shall support himself, if he can, and then he may spend 
what money he pleases, upon whom and how he pleases; 
but it shall not be mine, and, therefore, you had better pause 
before you trust him further.” 

Thereupon Madame Mantalini, quite unmoved by some 
pathetic lamentations on the part of her husband that the 
apothecary had not mixed the prussic acid strong enough 
and that he must take another bottle or two to finish the 
work, entered into a catalog of that gentleman’s gallantries, 
deceptions, extravagances, and infidelities (especially the 


390 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

last), winding up with a protest against being supposed 
to entertain the least remnant of regard for him and adducing, 
in proof of the altered state of her affections, the circum¬ 
stance of his having poisoned himself no less than six times 
within the last fortnight, and her not having once interfered 
by word or deed to save his life. 

“ And I insist on being separated and left to myself,” said 
Madame Mantalini, sobbing. “ If he dares to refuse me a 
separation, Ill have one in law —I can —and I hope this 
will be a warning to all girls who have seen this disgraceful 
exhibition.” 

“ Why do you say all this before so many listeners? ” said 
Ralph, in a low voice. “ You know you are not in earnest.” 

“ I am in earnest,” replied Madame Mantalini, aloud, and 
retreating towards Miss Knag. 

“ Well, but consider,” reasoned Ralph, who had a great in¬ 
terest in the matter. “ It would be well to reflect. A married 
woman 1 has no property.” 

“ Not a solitary individual dem, my soul,” said Mr. Man¬ 
talini, raising himself upon his elbow. 

“ I am quite aware of that,” retorted Madame Mantalini, 
tossing her head, “ and I have none. The business, the stock, 
this house, and everything in it, all belong to Miss Knag.” 

“ That’s quite true, Madame Mantalini,” said Miss Knag, 
with whom her late employer had secretly come to an amicable 
understanding on this point. “ Very true indeed, Madame 
Mantalini — hem — very true. And I never was more glad 
in all my life that I had strength of mind to resist matrimonial 
offers, no matter how advantageous, than I am when I think 
of my present condition as compared with your most un¬ 
fortunate and most undeserved one, Madame Mantalini.” 

“ Demmit! ” cried Mr. Mantalini, turning his head towards 

1 The property of a married woman at this time was under the 
absolute control of her husband. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 391 

his wife. “ Will it not slap and pinch the envious dowager 
that dares to reflect upon its own delicious ? ” 

But the day of Mr. Mantalini’s blandishments had de¬ 
parted. 

“ Miss Knag, sir,” said his wife, “ is my particular friend,” 
and although Mr. Mantalini leered till his eyes seemed in 
danger of never coming back to their right places again, 
madame showed no signs of softening. 

To do the excellent Miss Knag justice, she had been mainly 
instrumental in bringing about this altered state of things; 
for finding that there was no chance of the business thriving 
while Mr. Mantalini had any hand in the expenditure, she 
had applied herself to the investigation of some little matters 
connected with that gentleman’s private character, which 
she had so well imparted to Madame Mantalini as to open 
her eyes. The accidental discovery by Miss Knag of some 
tender correspondence, in which Madame Mantalini was 
described as “ old ” and “ ordinary ” had most providentially 
contributed. 

However, notwithstanding her firmness, Madame Man¬ 
talini wept very piteously, and as she leaned upon Miss Knag 
and signed towards the door, that young lady and all the 
other young ladies proceeded to bear her out. 

“ Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini in tears, “ you have been 
made a witness to this demnition cruelty on the part of the 
demdest enslaver and captivator that ever was, oh dem! I 
forgive that woman.” 

“ Forgive! ” repeated Madame Mantalini, angrily. 

“ I do forgive her, Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini. “ You 
will blame me, the world will blame me, the women will 
blame; everybody will laugh, and scoff, and smile, and grin 
most demnebly. They will say, ‘ She had a blessing. She 
did not know it. He was too weak; he was too good; he was 
a dem’d fine fellow, but he loved too strong; he could not 


392 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


bear her to be cross and call him wicked names. It was a 
dem’d case. There never was a demder.’ But I forgive her.” 

With this affecting speech Mr. Mantalini fell down again 
very flat and lay to all appearance without sense or motion, 
until all the females had left the room, when he came cau¬ 
tiously into a sitting posture, and confronted Ralph with 
a very blank face, and the little bottle still in one hand, the 
teaspoon in the other. 

“ You may put away those fooleries now and live by your 
wits again,” said Ralph, coolly putting on his hat. 

“ Demmit, Nickleby, you’re not serious ? ” 

“ I seldom joke. Good night.” 

“ No, but Nickleby.” 

“ I am wrong, perhaps. I hope so. You should know best. 
Good night.” 

Affecting not to hear his entreaties that he would stay 
and advise with him, Ralph left the crestfallen Mr. Man¬ 
talini to his meditations and left the house quietly. 

“ Oho! Sets the wind that way so soon ? Half-knave and 
half-fool, and detected in both characters. I think your 
day is over, sir.” 

As he said this, he made some memorandum in his pocket- 
book in which Mr. Mantalini’s name figured conspicuously 
and, finding by his watch that it was between nine and ten 
o’clock, made, all speed home. 

“ Are they here ? ” was the first question he asked of New¬ 
man. 

Newman nodded. “ Been here half an hour.” 

“ Two of them? One a sleek fat man? ” 

“ Ay. In your room now.” 

“ Good. Get me a coach.” 

“A coach! What you — going to — eh?” stammered 
Newman. 

Ralph angrily repeated his orders, and Newman, who 


393 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

might well have been excused for wondering (for he had 
never seen Ralph in a coach in his life) departed on his 
errand and presently returned with the coach. 

Into it went Mr. Squeers and Ralph, and the third man 
whom Newman Noggs had never seen. Newman stood 
upon the door step to see them off, not troubling himself to 
wonder where or upon what business they were going, until 
he chanced to hear Ralph name the address whither the 
coachman was to drive. 

Quick as lightning and in a state of the most extreme won¬ 
der, Newman darted into his little office for his hat and 
limped after the coach as if with the intention of getting up 
behind; but in this design he was balked, for it had too much 
the start of him and was soon hopelessly ahead, leaving him 
gaping in the empty street. “ I don’t know, though,” said 
Newman, stopping for breath, “ any good that I might have 
done by going too. He would have seen me if I had. Drive 
there! What can come of this! If I had only known it 
yesterday I could have told — drive there! There’s mischief 
in it. There must be.” 

His reflections were interrupted by a grey-haired man of 
a very remarkable, though far from prepossessing appear¬ 
ance, who, coming stealthily towards him, solicited relief. 

Newman, still cogitating deeply, turned away; but the 
man followed him and pressed him with such a tale of misery 
that Newman (who might have been considered a hopeless 
person to beg from and who had little enough to give) 
looked into his hat for some halfpence which he usually kept 
screwed up, when he had any, in a corner of his pocket 
handkerchief. While he was busily untwisting the knot with 
his teeth, the man said something which attracted his atten¬ 
tion. Whatever that something was, it led to something 
else. In the end he and Newman walked away side by side 
— the strange man talking earnestly and Newman listening. 


394 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XXIX 


S we gang awa’ fra Lunnun tomorrow neeght, and as 



I dinnot know that I was e’er so happy in a’ my days, 


Misther Nickleby, ding! but I will tak’ anoother glass to our 
next merry meeting! ” 

So said John Browdie, rubbing his hands with great joy¬ 
ousness and looking round him with a ruddy shining face. 
The time was the evening to which the last chapter bore 
reference; the place was the cottage; and the assembled com¬ 
pany were Nicholas, Mrs. Nickleby, Mrs. Browdie, Kate 
Nickleby, and Smike. A very merry party they had been. 
John Browdie declared, in the parlor after supper, at twenty 
minutes before eleven o’clock p. m., that he had never been so 
happy in all his born days. 

“ Mr. Browdie,” said Kate, addressing his young wife, “ is 
the best-humoured, the kindest, and heartiest creature I ever 
saw. If I were oppressed with I don’t know how many cares, 
it would make me happy only to look at him.” 

“ I am very much obliged to you, I am sure, ma’am,” re¬ 
turned Mrs. Browdie, gratefully. “ It’s nearly eleven o’clock, 
John. I am afraid we are keeping you up very late, ma’am.” 

“Late! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, with a sharp thin laugh. 
“This is quite early for us. We used to keep such hours! 
Twelve, one, two, three o’clock was nothing to us. Balls, 
dinners, card parties! ” 

Kate saw that for the ease and comfort of the visitors it 
was high time to stay this flood of recollection. She said 
that Mr. Browdie had half promised, early in the evening, 
that he would sing a Yorkshire song and that she was most 
impatient that he should redeem his promise, because she 
was sure it would afford her mama more amusement and 
pleasure than it was possible to express. Mrs. Nickleby, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


395 


confirming her daughter, John Browdie began to roar a 
meek sentiment (supposed to be uttered by a gentle swain 
fast pining away with love and despair) in a voice of thunder. 

At the end of the first verse there was a loud and violent 
knocking at the street door; so loud and so violent, indeed, 
that the ladies started as by one accord, and John Browdie 
stopped. 

“ It must be some mistake,” said Nicholas, carelessly. “ We 
know nobody who would come here at this hour.” 

Mrs. Nickleby surmised, however, that perhaps the count- 
inghouse was burnt down, or perhaps “ the Mr. Cheerybles ” 
had sent to take Nicholas into partnership (which certainly 
seemed highly probable at that time of night), or perhaps 
Mr. Linkinwater had run away with the property, or per¬ 
haps Miss La Creevy was taken ill, or perhaps- 

But a hasty exclamation from Kate stopped her in her 
conjectures, and Ralph Nickleby walked into the room. 

“ Stay,” said Ralph, as Nicholas rose, and Kate, making 
her way towards him, threw herself upon his arm. “ Before 
that boy says a word, hear me.” 

Nicholas bit his lip and shook his head in a threatening 
manner, but appeared for the moment unable to articulate 
a syllable. Kate clung closer to his arm, and Smike retreated 
behind them. John Browdie, who had heard of Ralph, 
stepped between the old man and his young friend, as if with 
the intention of preventing either of them from advancing 
a step further. 

“ Hear me, I say,” said Ralph, “ and not him.” v 

“ Say what thou’st gotten to say then, sir,” retorted John, 
“ and tak’ care thou dinnot put up angry bluid which thou’dst 
betther try to quiet.” 

“ I should know you,” said Ralph, “ by your tongue, and 
him ,” pointing to Smike, “ by his looks.” 

“ Don’t speak to him,” said Nicholas, recovering his voice. 



396 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I will not have it. I will not hear him. I do not know that 
man. I cannot breathe the air that he corrupts. His pres¬ 
ence is an insult to my sister. It is shame to see him. I will 
not bear it.” 

“Stand! ” -cried John, laying his heavy hand upon his 
chest. 

“ Then let him instantly retire,” said Nicholas, struggling. 
“ I am not going to lay hands upon him, but he shall with¬ 
draw. I will not have him here. John, John Browdie, is this 
my-house, am I a child? If he stands there, cried Nicholas, 
burning with fury, “ looking so calmly upon those who know 
his black and dastardly heart, he’ll drive me mad.” 

To all these exclamations John Browdie answered not a 
word, but he retained his hold upon Nicholas and, when he 
was silent again, spoke. 

“ There’s more to say and hear than thou think’st for. I 
tell ’ee I ha’ gotten scent o’ thot already. Wa’at be that 
shadow ootside door there? Noo, schoolmeasther, show thy¬ 
self, mun; dinnot be sheame-feaced. Noo, auld gen’l’man, 
let’s have schoolmeasther coom.” 

Hearing this adjuration, Mr. Squeers, who had been lin¬ 
gering in the passage until such time as it should be expedient 
for him to enter, was obliged to present himself in a some¬ 
what undignified and sneaking way; at which John Browdie 
laughed with such keen and heartfelt delight that even Kate, 
in all the pain, anxiety, and surprise of the scene and, though 
the tears were in her eyes, felt a disposition to join him. 

“Have you done enjoying yourself, sir,” said Ralph, at 
length. 

“ Pratty nigh for the prasant time, sir.” 

“ I can wait. Take your time.” 

Ralph waited until there was a perfect silence and, then 
turning to Mrs. Nickleby, but directing an eager glance at 
Kate, as if more anxious to watch his effect upon her, said: 


397 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Now, ma’am, listen to me. I don’t imagine that you 
were a party to a very fine tirade of words sent me by that 
boy of yours, because I don’t believe that under his control 
you have the slightest will of your own, or that your advice, 
your opinion, your wants, your wishes, anything which in 
nature and reason ought to weigh with him, has the slightest 
influence.” 

Mrs. Nickleby shook her head and sighed, as if there were 
a good deal in that, certainly. 

“ For this reason,” resumed Ralph, “ I address myself to 
you, ma’am. For this reason, partly, and partly because I 
do not wish to be disgraced by the acts of a vicious stripling 
whom I was obliged to disown, and who afterwards in his 
boyish majesty feigns to — ha, ha! — to disown me, I present 
myself here tonight. I have another motive in coming; a 
motive of humanity. I come here,” said Ralph, looking round 
with a triumphant smile, “ to restore a parent his child. Ay, 
sir,” he continued, bending eagerly forward and addressing 
Nicholas, as he marked the change of his countenance, “ to 
restore a parent his child, his son, sir, trapped, waylaid, and 
guarded at every turn by you, with the base design of robbing 
him some day of any little wretched pittance of which he 
might become possessed.” 

“ In that you know you lie,” said Nicholas, proudly. 

“ In this I know I speak the truth. I have his father 
here.” 

“Here! ” sneered Squeers, stepping forward. “Do you 
hear that? Here! Didn’t I tell you to be careful that his 
father didn’t turn up and send him back to me ? Why, his 
father’s my friend. Smike’s to come back to me directly, 
he is. Now, what do you say — eh! — now — come — what 
do you say to that — an’t you sorry you took so much trouble 
for nothing ? An’t you ? An’t you ? ” 

“ You bear upon your body certain marks I gave you,” 


398 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

said Nicholas, looking quietly away, “and may talk in ac¬ 
knowledgment of them as much as you please. You’ll talk 
a long time before you rub them out, Mr. Squeers. 

The estimable gentleman last named cast a hasty look at 
the table, as if he were prompted by this retort to throw a 
jug or bottle at the head of Nicholas; but he was interrupted 
in this design (if such design he had) by Ralph, who, touch¬ 
ing him on the elbow, bade him tell the father that he might 
now appear and claim his son. 

This being purely a labour of love, Mr. Squeers readily 
complied and, leaving the room for the purpose, almost im¬ 
mediately returned, supporting a sleek personage with an 
oily face, who, bursting from him, and giving to view the 
form and face of Mr. Snawley, made straight up to Smike, 
and tucking that poor fellow’s head under his arm in a most 
uncouth and awkward embrace, elevated his broad-brimmed 
hat at arm’s length in the air as a token of devout thanks¬ 
giving, exclaiming meanwhile: “ How little did I think of 
this here joyful meeting when I saw him last! Oh, how little 
did I think it! ” 

“ Be composed, sir,” said Ralph, with a gruff expression 
of sympathy; “you have got him now.” 

“Got him! Oh, haven’t I got him! Have I got him, 
though?” cried Mr. Snawley, scarcely able to believe it. 
“ Yes, here he is, flesh and blood.” 

“ Vary little flesh,” said John Browdie. 

Mr. Snawley was too much occupied by his parental feel¬ 
ings to notice this remark and, to assure himself more com¬ 
pletely of the restoration of his child, tucked his head under 
his arm again, and kept it there. 

“ What was it,” said Snawley, “ that made me take such 
a strong interest in him when that worthy instructor of youth 
brought him to my house? What was it that made me burn 
all over with a wish to chastise him severely for cutting away 
from his best friends, his pastors and masters? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


399 


“ It was parental instinct, sir,” observed Squeers. 

“ That’s what it was, sir,” rejoined Snawley; “ the elevated 
feeling, the feeling of the ancient Romans and Grecians, and 
of the beasts of the field and birds of the air, with the excep¬ 
tion of rabbits and tomcats, which sometirtfes devour their 
offspring. My heart yearned towards him. I could have 
— I don’t know what I couldn’t have done to him in the 
anger of a father.” 

“ It only shows what Natur is, sir,” said Mr. Squeers. 
" She’s a rum ’un, is Natur.” 

“ She is a holy thing, sir,” remarked Snawley. 

“ I believe you,” added Mr. Squeers, with a moral sigh. 
“ I should like to know how we should ever get on without 
her. Natur,” said Mr. Squeers, solemnly, “ is more easier 
conceived than described. Oh, what a blessed thing, sir, to 
be in a state o’ natur! ” 

Pending this philosophical discourse, the bystanders had 
been quite stupefied with amazement, while Nicholas had 
looked keenly from Snawley to Squeers, and from Squeers to 
Ralph, divided between his feelings of disgust, doubt, and sur¬ 
prise. At this juncture, Smike, escaping from his father, 
fled to Nicholas and implored him in most moving terms 
never to give him up, but to let him live and die beside him. 

“ If you are this boy’s father,” said Nicholas, “ look at the 
wreck he is, and tell me that you purpose to send him back 
to that loathsome den from which I brought him.” 

“Scandal again! ” cried Squeers. “Recollect! You an’t 
worth powder and shot, but I’ll be even with you one way or 
another.” 

“ Stop,” interposed Ralph, as Snawley was about to speak. 
“ Let us cut this matter short and not bandy words here with 
hair-brained profligates. This is your son, as you can prove. 
And you, Mr. Squeers, you know this boy to be the same 
that was with you for so many years under the name of 
Smike, Do you?” 


400 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 
“Do I! Don’t I?” 

“ Good. A very few words will be sufficient here. You 
had a son by your first wife, Mr. Snawley ? ” 

“ I had, and there he stands.” 

“We’ll show that presently. You and your wife were 
separated, and she had the boy to live with her when he was 
a year old. You received a communication from her, when 
you had lived apart a year or two, that the boy was dead; 
and you believed it? ” 

“Of course, I did! Oh, the joy of 

. “ Be rational, sir. This is business, and transports inter¬ 
fere with it. This wife died a year and a half ago, or there¬ 
abouts — not more — in some obscure place, where she was 
housekeeper in a family. Is that the case? 

“That’s the case.” 

“ Having written on her deathbed a letter of confession 
to you about this very boy, which, as it was not directed 
otherwise than in your name, only reached you a few days 

since ? ” ' 

“ Just so. Correct in every particular, sir.” 

“ And this confession, is to the effect that his death was 
an invention of hers to wound you; that the boy lived, but was 
of weak, imperfect intellect — that she sent him by a trusty 
hand to a cheap school in Yorkshire —that she had paid 
for his education for some years, and then, being poor, and 
going a long way off, gradually deserted him, for which she 
prayed forgiveness? ” 

Snawley nodded his head and wiped his eyes; the first 
slightly, the last violently. 

“The school was Mr. Squeers’s,” continued Ralph; “the 
boy was left there in the name of Smike; every description 
was fully given, dates tally exactly with Mr. Squeers’s books. 
Mr. Squeers is lodging with you at this time; you have two 
other boys at his school You communicated the whole dis- 


401 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

covery to him. He brought you to me as the person who 
had recommended to him the kidnapper of his child; and I 
brought you here. Is that so ? ” 

You talk like a good book, sir, that's got nothing in its 
inside but what's the truth , 77 replied Snawley. 

“ This is your pocketbook , 77 said Ralph, producing one 
from his coat. “ The certificates of your first marriage and 
of the boy's birth, and your wife's two letters, and every other 
paper that can support these statements are here, are they ? 77 

“ Every one of 'em, sir . 77 

“And you don’t object to their being looked at here, so 
that these people may be convinced,, and you may resume 
your control over your own son without more delay. Do I 
understand you ? 77 

“ I couldn’t have understood myself better, sir.” 

“ There, then , 77 said Ralph, tossing the pocketbook upon 
the table. “ Let them see them if they.like; and as those are 
the original papers, I should recommend you to stand near 
while they are being examined, or you may chance to lose 
some.” 

With these words Ralph sat down unbidden, folded his 
arms, and looked for the first time at his nephew. 

Nicholas darted an indignant glance at him but, com¬ 
manding himself as well as he could, entered upon a close 
examination of the documents, at which John Browdie 
assisted. There was nothing about them which could be 
called in question. The certificates were regularly signed 
as extracts from the parish books; the first letter had a 
genuine appearance of having been written and preserved 
for some years; the handwriting of the second tallied with it 
exactly. 

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, who had been looking 
anxiously over his shoulder, “can this be really the case? 
Is this statement true ? 77 


402 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I fear it is. What say you, John? ” 

John scratched his head and shook it, but said nothing 
at all. 

“ You will observe, ma’am,” said Ralph, addressing himself 
to Mrs. Nickleby, “ that this boy, being a minor and not of 
strong mind, we might have come here tonight, armed with 
the powers of the law. I should have done so, ma am, un¬ 
questionably, but for my regard for the feelings of yourself 
and your daughter.” 

“ You have shown your regard for her feelings well,” said 
Nicholas, drawing his sister towards him. 

“ Thank you. Your praise, sir, is commendation indeed.” 

“ Well,” said Squeers, “ what’s to be done ? Them hackney 
coach horses will catch cold if we don’t think of moving; 
there’s one of ’em a sneezing now, so that he blows the street 
door right open. What’s the order of the day ? Is Master 
Snawley to come along with us? ” 

“ No, no, no,” said Smike, drawing back and clinging to 
Nicholas. “No. Pray, no. I will not go from you with 
him. No, no.” 

“ This is a cruel thing,” said Snawley, looking to his friends 
for support. “ Do parents bring children into the world for 
this ? ” 

“ Do parents bring children into the world for thot? ” said 
John Browdie, bluntly, pointing, as he spoke, to Squeers. 

“ Never you mind,” retorted that gentleman, tapping his 
nose derisively. 

“Never I mind! ” said John. “No, nor never nobody 
mind, say’st thou, schoolmeasther. It’s nobody’s minding 
that keeps sike men as thou afloat. Noo then, where be’st 
thou coomin’ to? Dang it, dinnot coom treadin’ ower me, 
mun.” 

Suiting the action to the word, John Browdie just jerked his 
elbow into the chest of Mr. Squeers, who was advancing upon 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


403 


Smike, with so much dexterity that the schoolmaster reeled 
and staggered back upon Ralph Nickleby and, being unable 
to recover his balance, knocked that gentleman off his chair 
and stumbled heavily upon him. 

This accidental circumstance was the signal for some very 
decisive proceedings. In the midst of a great noise, oc¬ 
casioned by the prayers and entreaties of Smike, the cries and 
exclamations of the women, and the vehemence of the men, 
demonstrations were made of carrying off the lost son by 
violence. Squeers had actually begun to haul him out, when 
Nicholas (who, until then, had been evidently undecided how 
to act) took him by the collar and, shaking him so that such 
teeth as he had chattered in his head, politely escorted him 
to the door, and thrusting him into the passage, shut it 
upon him. 

“ Now,” said Nicholas, to the other two, “ have the kind¬ 
ness to follow your friend.” 

“ I want my son,” said Snawley. 

“ Your son chooses for himself. He chooses to remain here, 
and he shall.” 

“ You won’t give him up ? ” 

“ I would not give him up against his will, to be the victim 
of such brutality as that to which you would consign him, 
if he were a dog or a rat.” 

“ Knock that Nickleby down with a candlestick,” cried Mr. 
Squeers, through the keyhole, “ and bring out my hat, some¬ 
body, will you, unless he wants to steal it.” 

“ You, sir,” said Snawley, addressing the terrified Smike, 
“ are an unnatural, ungrateful, unlQvable boy. You won’t 
let me love you when I want to. Won’t you come home, 
won’t you ? ” 

“ No, no, no,” cried Smike, shrinking back. 

“ He never loved nobody,” bawled Squeers through the 
keyhole. “He never loved me; he never loved Wackford, 


404 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

who is next door but one to a cherubim. How can you expect 
that he’ll love his father? He’ll never love his father, he 
won’t. He don’t know what it is to have a father. He don’t 
understand. It an’t in him.” 

Mr. Snawley looked steadfastly at his son for a full minute 
and then, covering his eyes with his hand and once more rais¬ 
ing his hat in the air, appeared deeply occupied in deploring 
his black ingratitude. Then, drawing his arm across his 
eyes, he picked up Mr. Squeers’s hat and went sadly out. 

“ Your romance, sir,” said Ralph, lingering for a moment, 
“is destroyed, I take it. No unknown; no persecuted de¬ 
scendant of a man of high degree; the weak imbecile son 
of a poor petty tradesman. We shall see how your sympathy 
melts before plain matter of fact.” 

“ You shall,” said Nicholas, motioning towards the door. 

“ And trust me, sir,” added Ralph, “ that I never supposed 
you would give him up tonight. Pride, obstinacy, reputa¬ 
tion for fine feeling were all against it. These must be brought 
down, sir, lowered, crushed, as they shall be soon. The pro¬ 
tracted and wearing anxiety and expense of the law in its 
most oppressive form, its torture from hour to hour, its 
weary days and sleepless nights, with these I’ll prove you, 
and break your haughty spirit, strong as you deem it now. 
And when you make this house a hell, and visit these trials 
upon yonder wretched object, and those who think you now 
a young-fledged hero, we’ll go into old accounts between us 
two and see who stands the debtor and comes out best at 
last, even before the world.” 

CHAPTER XXX 

A FTER an anxious consideration of the painful and em¬ 
barrassing position in which he was placed concern¬ 
ing Smike, Nicholas decided that he ought to lose no time in 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


405 


frankly stating it to the two brothers. Availing himself of 
the first opportunity of being alone with Mr. Charles Cheery- 
ble at the close of the next day, he accordingly related Smike’s 
little history. He received this answer from Mr. Charles 
Cheeryble. 

“ I suppose you are surprised that I have listened with so 
little astonishment. That is easily explained. Your uncle 
has been here this morning.” 

Nicholas coloured and drew back a step or two. 

“ Yes,” said the old gentleman, tapping his desk emphati¬ 
cally, “ here in this room. He would listen neither to reason, 
feeling, nor justice. But Brother Ned was hard upon him. 
Brother Ned, sir, might have melted a paving stone.” 

“ He came to-” said Nicholas. 

“ To complain of you, to poison our ears with calumnies 
and falsehoods; but he came on a fruitless errand and went 
away with some wholesome truths in his ear besides. Brother 
Ned, my dear Mr. Nickleby — Brother Ned is a perfect lion. 
So is Tim Linkinwater; Tim is quite a lion. We had Tim in 
to face him at first, and Tim was at him before you could 
say ‘ Jock Robinson.’ ” 

“ How can I ever thank you for all the deep obligations you 
impose upon me every day? ” said Nicholas. 

“ By keeping silent upon the subject. You shall be righted. 
At least you shall not be wronged. Nobody belonging to you 
shall be wronged. They shall not hurt a hair of your head, 
or the boy’s head, or your mother’s head, or your sister’s 
head. I have said it, Brother Ned has said it, Tim Linkin¬ 
water has said it. We have all said it, and we’ll all do it. 
I have seen the father — if he is the father — and I suppose 
he must be. He is a barbarian and a hypocrite, Mr. Nickleby. 
I told him, ‘ You are a barbarian, sir.’ I did. And I’m glad 
of it, I am very glad I told him he was a barbarian, very glad 
indeed.” 


406 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


By this time Brother Charles was in such a very warm 
state of indignation that Nicholas thought he might venture 
to put in a word; but the moment he tried to do so, Mr. 
Cheeryble laid his hand softly upon his arm and pointed to 
a chair. 

“ The subject is at an end for the present,” said the old 
gentleman, wiping his face. “ Don’t revive it by a single 
word. I am going to speak upon another subject, a confi¬ 
dential subject, Mr. Nickleby. We must be cool again, we 
must be cool.” 

After two or three turns across the room, he resumed his 
seat and, drawing his chair nearer to that on which Nicholas 
was seated, said: 

“ I am about to employ you on a confidential and delicate 
mission.” 

“ You might employ many a more able messenger,” said 
Nicholas, “ but a more trustworthy or zealous one, I may 
be bold to say, you could not find.” 

“ Of that I am well assured. You will give me credit for 
thinking so when I tell you, that the object of this mission is 
a young lady.” 

“ A young lady! ” cried Nicholas, quite trembling for the 
moment with his eagerness to hear more. 

“ A very beautiful young lady,” said Mr. Cheeryble, 
gravely. 

“ Please go on, sir,” returned Nicholas. 

“ I am thinking how to do so,” said Brother Charles, sadly, 
as it seemed to his young friend, and with an expression allied 
to pain. “ You accidentally saw a young lady in this room 
one morning in a fainting spell. Do you remember? Per¬ 
haps you have forgotten.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Nicholas hurriedly. “I — I — remem¬ 
ber it very well indeed.” 

“ She is the lady I speak of,” said Brother Charles. “ She 


407 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

is the daughter of a lady who, when she was a beautiful 
girl herself and I was very many years younger, I — it seems 
a strange word for me to utter now, — I loved very dearly. 
You will smile, perhaps, to hear a grey headed man talk about 
such things. You will not offend me; for when I was as 
young as you, I suppose I should have done the same.” 

“ I have no such inclination, indeed,” said Nicholas. 

“My dear Brother Ned was to have married her sister, 
but she died. She is dead, too, now and has been for many 
years. She married her choice, and I wish I could add that 
her after-life was as happy as, God knows, I ever prayed it 
might be! ” 

A short silence intervened, which Nicholas made no effort 
to break. 

“ It will be enough to say that she was not happy, that they 
fell into complicated distresses and difficulties. Twelve 
months before her death she came to me to appeal to my old 
friendship. She was sadly changed, sadly altered, broken- 
spirited from suffering and ill-usage, and almost broken¬ 
hearted. Her husband readily availed himself of the money 
which, to give her but one hour’s peace of mind, I would have 
poured out as freely as water. In those times this young 
lady was a mere child. I never saw her again until that 
morning when you saw her also. You saw also her faithful 
servant girl who has stayed with her even when they had no 
money. The young lady told us that her father was in some 
secret place to avoid his creditors, reduced, between sick¬ 
ness and poverty, to the verge of death, and she — who should 
have blessed a better father, was steadily braving privation, 
degradation, and everything most terrible to such a young and 
delicate creature’s heart for the purpose of supporting him.” 

“ Cannot she be persuaded to-” Nicholas hesitated. 

“To leave him?” said Brother Charles. “Who could 
entreat a child to desert her parent ? Such entreaties, limited 


408 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


to her seeing him occasionally, have been urged upon her — 
not by me — but always with the same result.” 

“ Is he kind to her ? Does he return her affection ? ” asked 
Nicholas. 

“ True kindness is not in his nature. Such kindness as 
he knows, he regards her with, I believe. The mother was 
a gentle, loving, confiding creature; and although he wounded 
her from their marriage until her death as cruelly as ever man 
did, she never ceased to love' him. She commended him on 
her deathbed to her child’s care. Her child has never for¬ 
gotten it, and never will.” 

“ Have you no influence over him? ” asked Nicholas. 

“ I, my dear sir? The last man in the world. Such is 
his jealousy and hatred of me that, if he knew his daughter 
had opened her heart to me, he would render her life miserable 
with his reproaches, although, if he knew that every penny she 
had came from me, he would not give up one personal desire 
to avoid taking it.” 

“ An unnatural scoundrel! ” said Nicholas, indignantly. 

“ We will use no harsh terms,” said Brother Charles, in a 
gentle voice, “ but will accommodate ourselves to the cir¬ 
cumstance in which this young lady is placed. Such assist¬ 
ance as I have prevailed upon her to accept, I have been 
obliged, at her own request, to dole out in the smallest por¬ 
tions, lest he, finding how easily money was procured, should 
squander it more lightly. She has come to and fro, to and 
fro, secretly and by night, to take even this; and I cannot 
bear that things should go on in this way, Mr. Nickleby, I 
really cannot bear it.” 

Then it came out by little and little that the twins had 
been revolving in their good old heads manifold plans and 
schemes for helping this young lady in the most delicate and 
considerate way, and so that her father should not suspect the 
source whence the aid was derived; how they had at last 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


409 


come to the conclusion that the best course would be a pre¬ 
tence of purchasing her little drawings and ornamental work 
at a high price and keeping up a constant demand for the 
same. For the furtherance of which end and object it was 
necessary that somebody should represent the dealer in such 
commodities, and after great deliberation they had pitched 
upon Nicholas to support this character. 

“ The young lady, sir,” said Nicholas, who felt so em¬ 
barrassed that he had difficulty in saying anything at all, 
“ does — is — is she a party to this innocent deceit ? ” 

“ Yes, yes; at least she knows you come from us; she does 
not know, however, but that we shall dispose of these little 
productions which you’ll purchase from time to time; and 
perhaps if you did it very well (that is, very well indeed), 
perhaps she might be brought to believe — that we made a 
profit of them. Eh? Eh?” 

* * * 

To the row of houses indicated to him by Mr. Charles 
Cheeryble, Nicholas directed his steps. Opening the rickety 
gate which, dangling on its broken hinges, half-admitted and 
half-repulsed the visitor, Nicholas knocked at the street 
door with a faltering hand. 

It was, in truth, a shabby house outside, with very dim 
parlour windows and a very small show of blinds. Neither, 
when the door was opened, did the inside appear to belie the 
outward promise. There was faded carpeting on the stairs 
and faded oil-cloth in the passage. Nicholas had ample time 
to make these observations while the little boy, who went 
on errands for the lodgers, clattered down the kitchen stairs 
and was heard to scream, as in some remote cellar, for Miss 
Bray’s servant. She, presently appearing and requesting 
him to follow her, caused him to evince greater symptoms of 
nervousness and disorder than so natural a consequence of 


410 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

his having inquired for that young lady would seem calculated 
to occasion. 

Upstairs he went, however. Into a front room he was 
shown, and there, seated at a little table by the window, on 
which were drawing materials with which she was occupied, 
sat the beautiful girl who had so engrossed his thoughts from 
the time when he had seen her in the employment office. 

But how the graces and elegances which she had dispersed 
about the poorly furnished room went to the heart of 
Nicholas! Flowers, plants, birds, the harp, the old piano, 
whose notes had sounded so much sweeter in bygone times; 
how many struggles had it cost her to keep these two last 
links of that broken chain which bound her yet to home! 

A sick man propped up with pillows in an easy chair, mov¬ 
ing restlessly and impatiently in his seat, attracted atten¬ 
tion. He was scarce fifty, perhaps, but so emaciated as to 
appear much older. His features presented the remains 
of a handsome countenance, but one in which the embers 
of strong and impetuous passions were traced. His looks 
were very haggard, and his limbs and body literally worn 
to the bone; but there was something of the old fire in the 
large sunken eye, and it seemed to kindle afresh as he struck 
a thick stick, with which he seemed to have supported himself 
in his seat, impatiently on the floor twice or thrice, and called 
his daughter by her name. 

“ Madeline, who is this ? What does anybody want here ? 
Who told a stranger we could be seen ? What is it ? ” 

“ I believe-” the young lady began, as she inclined 

her head with an air of some confusion, in reply to the 
salutation of Nicholas. « 

“ You always believe,” returned her father petulantly. 
“ What is it? ” 

By this time Nicholas had recovered sufficient presence of 
mind to speak for himself, so he said that he had called about 




Into a front room he was shown 





















































































































412 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


a pair of hand screens and some painted velvet for an otto¬ 
man. He had also to pay for the two drawings. With many 
thanks, and advancing to the little table, he laid upon it a bank 
note, folded in an envelope and sealed. 

“ See that the money is right, Madeline. Open the paper, 
my dear.” 

“ It’s quite right, papa, I’m sure.” 

“ Here! ” said Mr. Bray, putting out his hand, and opening 
and shutting his bony fingers with irritable impatience. 
“ Let me see. What are you talking about, Madeline? 
You’re sure? How can you be sure of any such thing? 
Five pounds — well, is that right ? ” 

“ Quite right,” said Madeline, bending over him. She was 
so busily employed in arranging the pillows that Nicholas 
could not see her face, but as she stooped he thought he saw 
a tear fall. 

“ Ring the bell, ring the bell,” said the sick man, with the 
same nervous eagerness and motioning towards it with such 
a quivering hand that the bank notes rustled in the air. “ Tell 
her to get it changed, to get me a newspaper, to buy me some 
grapes, another bottle of the wine that I had last week — 
and — I forget half I want now, but she can go out again. 
Let her get those first. Now Madeline, my love, quick, quick, 
quick! Good God, how slow you are! ” 

“ He remembers nothing that she wants! ” thought Nicho¬ 
las. Perhaps something of what he thought was expressed in 
his countenance, for the sick man, turning towards him with 
great asperity, demanded to know if he waited for a receipt. 

“ It is no matter at all,” said Nicholas. 

“ No matter! What do you mean, sir? No matter! Do 
you think you bring your paltry money here as a favour or 
as a gift, or as a matter of business, and in return for value 
received? Because you can’t appreciate the time and taste 
which are bestowed upon the goods you deal in, do you 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


413 1 


‘think you give your money away? Do you know that you 
are talking to a gentleman, sir, who at one time could have 
bought up fifty such men as you and all you have? What 
do you mean ? ” 

“ I merely mean that, as I shall have many dealings with 
this lady, if she will kindly allow me,, I will not trouble her 
with such forms,” said Nicholas. 

“ Then I mean, if you please, that we’ll have as many forms 
as we can. My daughter requires no kindness from you or 
anybody else. Have the goodness to confine your dealings 
strictly to trade and business, and not to travel beyond it. 
Every petty tradesman is to begin to pity her now, is he? 
Upon my soul! Very pretty; Madeline, my dear, give him 
a receipt; and mind you always do so.” 

While she was pretending to write it, the invalid, who 
appeared at times to suffer great bodily pain, sank back in 
his chair and moaned out a feeble complaint that the girl 
had been gone an hour and that everybody conspired to 
goad him. 

“ When shall I call again ? ” said Nicholas, as he took the 
piece of paper. 

This was addressed to the daughter, but the father an¬ 
swered immediately. 

“ When you’re requested to call, sir, and not before. Don’t 
worry and persecute. Madeline, my dear, when is this person 
to call again ? ” 

“ Oh, not for a long time, not for three or four weeks; it 
is not necessary, indeed; I can do without,” said the young 
lady, with great eagerness. 

“ Why, how are we to do without ? ” urged her father, not 
speaking above his breath. “ Three or four weeks, Madeline! 
Three or four weeks! ” 

“ Then sooner, sooner, if you please,” said the young lady, 
turning to Nicholas. 


414 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Three or four weeks! ” muttered the father. “ Madeline, 
what on earth — do nothing for three or four weeks! ” 

“ It is a long time, ma’am/’ said Nicholas. 

“You think so, do you?” retorted the father, angrily. 
“ If I chose to beg and stoop to ask assistance from people I 
despise, three or four months would not be a long time; three 
or four years would not be a long time. Understand, sir, 
that is if I chose to be dependent; but as I don’t, you may 
call in a week.” 

Nicholas bowed low to the young lady and retired, ponder¬ 
ing upon Mr. Bray’s ideas of independence. He heard a 
light footstep above him as he descended the stairs. Look¬ 
ing round, he saw that the young lady was standing there, 
and glancing timidly towards him, seemed to hesitate whether 
she should call him back or no. The best way of settling 
the question was to turn back at once, which Nicholas did. 

“ I don’t know whether I do right in asking you,” said 
Madeline Bray, hurriedly, “ but please, please, do not mention 
to my poor mother’s dear friends what has passed here today. 
He has suffered much and is worse this morning. I beg you 
as a favour to myself.” 

“ You have but to hint a wish,” returned Nicholas, fer¬ 
vently, “ and I would hazard my life to gratify it.” 

“ You speak hastily, sir.” 

“ Truly and sincerely,” rejoined Nicholas, his lips trembling 
as he formed the words, “ if ever man spoke truly yet. I am 
not skilled in disguising my feelings, and if I were, I could 
not hide my heart from you. As I know your history and 
feel as men and angels must who hear and see such things, 
I do entreat you to believe that I would die to serve you.” 

The young lady turned away her head and was plainly 
weeping. 

“ Forgive me,” said Nicholas, with respectful earnestness, 
“ if I seem to say too much, or to presume upon the confidence 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


415 


which has been entrusted to me. But I could not leave you 
as if my interest and sympathy expired with the commission 
of the day. I am your faithful servant, humbly devoted to 
you from this hour, devoted in strict truth and honour to him 
who sent me here. If I meant more or less than this, I 
should be unworthy his regard, and false to the nature that 
prompts the honest words I utter.” 

She waved her hand, entreating him to be gone, but 
answered not a word. Nicholas could say no more, and 
silently withdrew. And thus ended his first interview with 
Madeline Bray. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

I T was with a sad and heavy heart that Nicholas retraced 
his steps to the countinghouse of Cheeryble Brothers. 
Whatever the pleasant visions which had sprung up in his 
mind round the fair image of Madeline Bray, they were 
now dispelled, and not a vestige of their gaiety and bright¬ 
ness remained. 

“ I will keep my word as I have pledged it to her. This 
is no common trust that I have to discharge, and I will 
perform the duty scrupulously and strictly. My secret feel¬ 
ings deserve no consideration in such a case as this, and 
they shall have none.” 

While Nicholas occupied his leisure hours with thoughts 
of Madeline Bray, and (in execution of the commissions 
which Brother Charles had imposed upon him in her behalf) 
saw her again and again, and each time with greater danger 
to his peace of mind, Mrs. Nickleby and Kate lived in peace 
and quiet. They were agitated by no other cares than those 
which were connected with certain proceedings taken by 
Mr. Snawley for the recovery of his son and their anxiety 


416 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


concerning the health of Smike, which seemed to be failing; 
this occasioned both them and Nicholas considerable un¬ 
easiness and alarm. 

It was no complaint or murmur on the part of the poor 
fellow himself that disturbed them. Ever eager to be em¬ 
ployed in such slight services as he could render, and always 
anxious to repay his benefactors with cheerful and happy 
looks, less friendly eyes might have seen in him no cause for 
any misgiving. But there were times, and often, too, when 
the sunken eye -was too bright, the hollow cheek too flushed, 
the breath too heavy in its course, the frame too feeble and 
exhausted, to escape their notice. 

There is a dread disease which prepares its victim gradu¬ 
ally for death; which refines it of its grosser aspect, and 
throws around familiar looks unearthly indications of the 
coming change; a dread disease, in which the struggle between 
soul and body is so gradual, quiet, and solemn that the 
mortal part wastes away slowly but surely day by day. 

It was with some faint reference in his own mind to this 
disorder, though he would by no means admit it even to 
himself, that Nicholas had already carried his faithful com¬ 
panion to a physician of great repute. There was no cause 
for immediate alarm, the doctor said. There were no present 
symptoms which could be deemed conclusive. The con¬ 
stitution had been greatly tried and injured in childhood, 
but still it might not be fatal — and that was all. 

He seemed-to grow no worse; and as it was not difficult 
to find a reason for these symptoms of illness in the shock 
and agitation he had recently undergone, Nicholas comforted 
himself with the hope that his poor friend would soon recover. 
This hope his mother and sister shared with him; and as 
the object of their joint solicitude seemed to have no uneasi¬ 
ness or despondency for himself, but each day answered with 
a quiet smile that he felt better than he had upon the day 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


417 


before, their fears abated, and the general happiness was by 
degrees restored. 

If the Brothers Cheeryble, as they found Nicholas worthy 
of trust and confidence, bestowed upon him every day some 
new and substantial mark of kindness, they were not less 
mindful of those who depended on him. Various little 
presents to Mrs. Nickleby, always of the very things they 
most required, tended in no slight degree to the improve¬ 
ment and embellishment of the cottage. Kate’s little store 
of trinkets became quite dazzling; and for company! If 
Brother Charles and Brother Ned failed to look in for at 
least a few minutes every Sunday or one evening in the week, 
there was Mr. Tim Linkinwater (who had never made half 
a dozen other acquaintances in all his life and who took such 
delight in his new friends as no words can express) constantly 
coming and going in his evening walks, and stopping to rest, 
while Mr. Frank Cheeryble happened, by some strange con¬ 
junction of circumstances, to be passing the door on some 
business or other at least three nights in the week. 

“ He is the most attentive young man I ever saw, Kate,” 
said Mrs. Nickleby to her daughter one evening, when this 
last-named gentleman had been the subject of the worthy 
lady’s praise, for some time, and Kate had sat perfectly 
silent. 

“Attentive, mama! ” 

“ Bless my heart, Kate, what a colour you have got! 
Why, you’re quite flushed! ” 

“ Oh, mama, what strange things you fancy! ” 

“It wasn’t fancy, Kate, my dear, I’m certain of that; 
however, it’s gone now at any rate, so it doesn’t matter 
whether it was there or not. What was it we were talking 
about? Oh, Mr. Frank. I never saw such attention in my 
life, never.” 

“ Surely you are not serious.” 


418 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Not serious! Why shouldn’t I be serious? I’m sure 
I never was more serious. I will say that his politeness and 
attention to me is one of the most becoming, gratifying, 
pleasant things I have seen for a very long time. You don’t 
often meet with such behaviour in young men, and it strikes 
one more when one does meet with it.” 

“ Oh, attention to you, mama,” rejoined Kate quickly, 
“ oh yes.” 

“ Dear me, Kate, what an extraordinary girl you are! 
Was it likely I should be talking of his attention to anybody 
else ? ” 

Before Kate had returned any reply, a queer little double 
knock announced that Miss La Creevy had called to see 
them. 

“ I met that dear old soul, Mr. Linkinwater,” she said. 

“ Taking his evening walk and coming on to rest here 
before he turns back to the City, I’ll be bound! ” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

“ I should think he was,” returned Miss La Creevy, “ espe¬ 
cially as young Mr. Cheeryble was with him.” 

“ Surely that is no reason why Mr. Linkinwater should be 
coming here,” said Kate. 

“ Why I think it is, my dear,” said Miss La Creevy. “ For 
a young man, Mr. Frank is not a very great walker; and I 
observe that he generally falls tired and requires a good long 
rest when he has come as far as this. But where is my 
friend ? ” said the little woman, looking about, after having 
glanced slyly at Kate. “ He has not been run away with 
again, has he ? ” 

“ Ah! Where is Mr. Smike? ” said Mrs. Nickleby. “ He 
was here this instant.” 

Upon further inquiry, it turned out, to the good lady’s 
unbounded astonishment, that Smike had that moment 
gone upstairs to bed. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


419 


“ Well, now,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “ he is the strangest 
creature! Last Tuesday — was it Tuesday? Yes, to be 
sure it was; you recollect, Kate, my dear, the very last time 
young Mr. Cheeryble was here — last Tuesday night he 
went off in just the same strange way at the very moment 
that knock came to the door. It cannot be that he don’t like 
company, because he is always fond of people who are fond 
of Nicholas, and I am sure young Mr. Cheeryble is.” 

Any further reflections were cut short by the arrival of 
Tim Linkinwater and Mr. Frank Cheeryble, in the hurry 
of receiving whom, Mrs. Nickleby speedily lost sight of 
everything else. 

“ I am so sorry Nicholas is not at home,” said Mrs. 
Nickleby. “ Kate, my dear, you must be both Nicholas and 
yourself.” 

“ Miss Nickleby need be but herself,” said Frank. 

“ Then at all events she shall press you to stay,” returned 
Mrs. Nickleby. “ Mr. Linkinwater says ten minutes, but 
I cannot let you go so soon; Nicholas would be very much 
vexed, I am sure. Kate, my dear! ” 

In obedience to a great number of nods and winks and 
frowns of extra significance, Kate added her entreaties that 
the visitors would remain. 

Nicholas did not come home, nor did Smike reappear; but 
neither circumstance had any great effect upon the little 
party, who were all in the best humour possible. Indeed, 
there sprang up quite a flirtation between Miss La Creevy 
and Tim Linkinwater, who said a thousand jocose and face¬ 
tious things and became, by degrees, quite gallant, not to say 
tender. Little Miss La Creevy, on her part, was in high 
spirits, and rallied Tim on having remained a bachelor all his 
life with so much success that Tim was actually induced to de¬ 
clare that, if he could get anybody to have him, he didn’t 
know but what he might change his condition even yet. 


420 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


This was done and said with a comical mixture of jest and 
earnest and, leading to a great amount of laughter, made 
them very merry indeed. 

Kate was commonly the life and soul of the conversation 
at home; but she was more silent than usual upon this 
occasion (perhaps because Tim and Miss La Creevy en¬ 
grossed so much of it) and, keeping aloof from the talkers, 
sat at the window watching the shadows of the evening 
closing in and enjoying the quiet beauty of the night, which 
seemed to have similar attractions for Frank, who first lin¬ 
gered near and then sat down beside her. No doubt, there 
are a great many things to be said appropriate to a summer 
evening, and no doubt they are best said in a low voice, as 
being most suitable to the peace and serenity of the hour. 
Neither was there the slightest reason why Mrs. Nickleby 
should have expressed surprise when, candles being at length 
brought in, Kate’s bright eyes were unable to bear the light 
which obliged her to avert her face. 

The good lady’s surprise, however, did not end here. It 
was greatly increased when it was discovered that Kate had 
not the least appetite for supper — a discovery so alarming 
that there is no knowing in what unaccountable efforts of 
oratory Mrs. Nickleby’s apprehensions might have been 
vented if the general attention had not been attracted at 
the moment by a very strange and uncommon noise, pro¬ 
ceeding, as the pale and trembling servant girl affirmed, 
and as everybody’s sense of hearing seemed to affirm also, 
“ right down ” the chimney of the adjoining room. 

It did not seem possible, but the noise did come from the 
chimney in the next room. It was a strange compound of 
shuffling, sliding, rumbling, and struggling sounds, all muffled 
by the chimney. Frank Cheeryble caught up a candle, and 
Tim Linkinwater the tongs, and they would have very 
quickly ascertained the cause of this disturbance if Mrs. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


421 


Nickleby had not been taken very faint and declined being 
left behind on any account. So they all proceeded to the 
troubled chamber in a body, excepting only Miss La Creevy, 
who, as the servant girl volunteered a confession of having 
been subject to fits in her infancy, remained with her to give 
the alarm and apply restoratives, in case of extremity. 

Advancing to the door of the mysterious apartment, they 
were greatly surprised to hear a human voice, chanting with 
a highly elaborated expression of melancholy and in tones of 
suffocation which a human voice might have produced 
from under five or six feather beds, the once popular air of 
“ Has She Then Failed in Her Truth, the Beautiful Maid I 
Adore! ” On bursting into the room, they were more greatly 
astonished to find that these romantic sounds certainly pro¬ 
ceeded from the throat of some man up the chimney, of whom 
nothing was visible but a pair of legs, which were dangling 
above the grate, apparently feeling, with extreme anxiety, 
for the top bar whereon to effect a landing. 

A sight so unusual and unbusinesslike as this completely 
paralysed Tim Linkinwater, ^vho, after one or two gentle 
pinches at the stranger’s ankles with the tongs, which were 
productive of no effect, stood clapping the tongs together, 
as if he were sharpening them for another assault, and did 
nothing else. 

“ This must be some drunken fellow,” said Frank. “ No 
thief would announce his presence in such a manner.” 

As he said this with great indignation, he raised the candle 
to obtain a better view of the legs and was darting forward 
to pull them down with very little ceremony when Mrs. 
Nickleby, clasping her hands, uttered a sharp sound, some¬ 
thing between a scream and an exclamation, and demanded 
to know whether the mysterious limbs were not clad in short 
knee breeches and grey worsted stocking, or whether her eyes 
had deceived her? 


422 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Yes,” cried Frank, looking a little closer. “ Short knee 
breeches, certainly, and—and — rough grey stocking, too. 
Do you know him, ma’am? ” 

“ Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, sitting down in a 
chair with that sort of desperate resignation which seemed to 
imply that now matters had come to a crisis and all disguise 
was useless, “ you will have the goodness, my love, to explain 
how this matter stands. I have given him no encouragement 
— none whatever — not the least in the world. You know 
that, my dear, perfectly well. He was very respectful, 
exceedingly respectful, when he declared, as you were a 
witness; still at the same time, if I am to be persecuted in 
this way, if vegetable what’s-his-names and all kinds of 
garden stuff are to strew my path out of doors, and gentle¬ 
men are to come choking up our chimneys at home, I really 
don’t know — upon my word I do not know — what is to 
become of me. It’s a very hard case — harder than anything 
I was ever exposed to, and a great deal more embarrassing. 
I would rather, Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, with 
great solemnity, and an effusion of tears, “ I would rather, I 
declare, have been a pig-faced lady than be exposed to such 
a life as this! ” 

Frank Cheeryble and Tim Linkinwater looked, in astonish¬ 
ment, first at each other and then.at Kate, who felt that some 
explanation was necessary, but who, between her terror at 
the apparition of the legs, her fear lest their owner should 
be smothered, and her anxiety to give the least ridiculous 
solution of the mystery that it was capable of bearing, was 
quite unable to utter a single word. 

“ He gives me great pain,” continued Mrs. Nickleby, 
drying her eyes, “ great pain, but don’t hurt a hair of his 
head, I beg. On no account hurt a hair of his head.” 

It would not, under existing circumstances, have been quite 
so easy to hurt a hair of the gentleman’s head as Mrs. Nickleby 


V 



\lmmfiminimlllillHHU 

■II m m. I mill II liiimiulm 


| ,, O I .HI • * t 1 'll 

Mimv/ n >»r #■ 


\9* 1 //;'%,%'»»/ # ,y • * *»♦#/> 1 * *>••» 

Ksusi • #//>•' * • *.y v V V, v 


"jmk 


\Mh, 


Nothing was visible but a pair of legs. 



















































424 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

seemed to imagine, inasmuch as that part of his person was 
some feet up the chimney, which was by no means a wide 
one. But as all this time he had never left off singing about 
the bankruptcy of the beautiful maid in respect of truth, and 
now began not only to croak very feebly, but to kick with 
great violence as if respiration became a task of difficulty, 
Frank Cheeryble, without further hesitation, pulled at the 
legs with such force as to bring the man floundering into the 
room with greater precipitation than he had quite calculated 
upon. 

“ Oh! yes, yes,” said Kate, when the whole figure of this 
singular visitor appeared in this abrupt manner. “ I know 
who it is. Please don’t be rough with him. Is he hurt? 
I hope not. Oh, please see if he is hurt.” 

“ He is not, I assure you,” replied Frank, handling the 
object of his surprise, after this appeal, with sudden tender¬ 
ness and respect. “ He is not hurt in the least.” 

“ Don’t let him come any nearer,” said Kate, retiring as 
far as she could. 

“ No, no, he shall not,” rejoined Frank. “ You see I have 
him secure here. But may I ask you what this means, and 
whether you expected this old gentleman ? ” 

“ Oh, no, of course not; but he — mama does not think 
so, I believe — but he is an insane gentleman who has 
escaped from the next house, and must have found an 
opportunity of secreting himself here.” 

“ Kate,” interposed Mrs. Nickleby, with severe dignity, 
“ I am surprised at you.” 

“ Dear mama.” 

“ I am surprised at you, upon my word, Kate, I am quite 
astonished that you should join the persecutors of this un¬ 
fortunate gentleman, when you know very w T ell that they 
have the basest designs upon his property and that that is 
the whole secret of it. It would be much kinder of you, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


425 


Kate, to ask Mr. Linkinwater or Mr. Cheeryble to interfere 
in his behalf and see him righted. You ought not to allow 
your feelings to influence you; it’s not right, very far from 
it. What should my feelings be, do you suppose? If any¬ 
body ought to be indignant, who is it ? I, of course, and very 
properly so. Still, at the same time, I wouldn’t commit such 
an injustice for the world. No,” continued Mrs. Nickleby, 
drawing herself up and looking another way with a kind of 
bashful stateliness; “ this gentleman will understand me 
when I tell him that I repeat the answer I gave him the other 
day; that I always will repeat it, though I do believe him to 
be sincere when I find him placing himself in such dreadful 
situations on my account; and that I request him to have 
the goodness to go away directly, or it will be impossible to 
keep his behaviour a secret from my son Nicholas. I am 
obliged to him, very much obliged to him, but I cannot listen 
to his addresses for a moment. It’s quite impossible.” 

While this address was in course of delivery, the old gentle¬ 
man, with his nose and cheeks embellished with large patches 
of soot, sat upon the ground with his arms folded, eyeing the 
spectators in profound silence and with a very majestic de¬ 
meanour. He did not appear to take the smallest notice of 
what Mrs. Nickleby said, but when she ceased to speak, he 
honoured her with a long stare and inquired if she had quite; 
finished ? 

“I have nothing more to say,” replied that lady, modestly. 
“I really cannot say anything more.” 

“ Very good,” said the old gentleman, after a short pause, 
“ then bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a 
corkscrew.” 

Nobody executing this order, the old gentleman, after a 
short pause, raised his voice again and demanded a thunder 
sandwich. This article not being forthcoming either, he 
requested to be served with a fricassee of boot tops, and 


426 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

goldfish sauce, and then laughing heartily, gratified his 
hearers with a very long, very loud, and most melodious 
bellow. 

But still Mrs. Nickleby, in reply to the significant looks 
all about her, shook her head as though to assure them that 
she saw nothing whatever in all this, unless, indeed, it were 
a slight degree of eccentricity. She might have remained 
impressed with these opinions down to the latest moment of 
her life, but for a slight train of circumstances which, trivial 
as they were, altered the whole complexion of the case. 

It happened that Miss La Creevy, finding her patient in 
no very threatening condition and being strongly impelled 
by curiosity to see what was going forward, bustled into the 
room while the old gentleman was in the very act of bellow¬ 
ing. It happened, too, that the instant the old gentleman 
saw her, he stopped short, skipped suddenly on his feet, and 
fell to kissing his hand violently —a change of demeanour 
which almost terrified the little portrait painter out of her 
senses and caused her to retreat behind Tim Linkinwater 
with the utmost expedition. 

“ Aha! ” cried the old gentleman, folding his hands and 
squeezing them with great force against each other. “ I 
see her now, I see her now! My love, my life, my bride, 
my peerless beauty. She is come at last — at last — and all 
is gas and gaiters! ” 

Mrs. Nickleby looked rather disconcerted for a moment, 
but immediately recovering, nodded to Miss La Creevy and 
the other spectators several times, and frowned, and smiled 
gravely; giving them to understand that she saw where the 
mistake was and would set it all to rights in a minute or 
two. 

“She is come! ” said the old gentleman, laying his hand 
upon his heart. “ Cormoran and Blunderbore! She is come! 
All the wealth I have is hers if she will take me for her slave. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


427 


Where are grace, beauty, and blandishments like those? 
In the Empress of Madagascar? No. In the Queen of 
Diamonds? No. In Mrs. Rowland, who every morning 
bathes in Kalydor for nothing? No. Melt all these down 
into one, with the three Graces, the nine Muses, and four¬ 
teen biscuit bakers’ daughters from Oxford Street, and make 
a woman half as lovely. Pho! I defy you.” 

After uttering this rhapsody, the old gentleman snapped 
his fingers twenty or thirty times, and then subsided into an 
ecstatic contemplation of Miss La Creevy’s charms. This 
affording Mrs. Nickleby a favourable opportunity of expla¬ 
nation, she went about it straight. 

“ I am sure,” said the worthy lady, with a prefatory cough, 
“ that it’s a great relief, under such trying circumstances as 
these, to have anybody else mistaken for me — a very great 
relief; and it’s a circumstance that never occurred before, 
although I have several times been mistaken for my daughter 
Kate. I have no doubt the people were very foolish, and 
perhaps ought to have known better; but still they did take 
me for her, and of course that was no fault of mine, and it 
would be very hard indeed if I was to be made responsible 
for it. However, in this instance, of course, I must feel 
that I should do exceedingly wrong if I suffered anybody — 
especially anybody that I am under great obligations to — to 
be made uncomfortable on my account. And therefore I 
think it my duty to tell that gentleman that he is mistaken, 
that I am the lady who he was told by some impertinent 
person was niece of the Council of Pavingstones, and that 
I do beg and entreat of him to go quietly away, if it’s only 
for,” here Mrs. Nickleby simpered and hesitated, “ for my 
sake.” 

It might have been expected that the old gentleman would 
have been penetrated to the heart by the delicacy and con¬ 
descension of this.appeal and that he would at least have 


428 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


returned a courteous and suitable reply. What, then, was 
the shock which Mrs. Nickleby received when, accosting her 
in the most unmistakable manner, he replied in a loud and 
sonorous voice: “ Be gone, cat! ” 

“ Sir! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, in a faint tone. 

“Cat!” repeated the old gentleman. “ Puss, kit, tit, 
grimalkin, tabby, brindle, whoosh! ” With which last sound, 
uttered in a hissing manner between his teeth, the old gentle¬ 
man swung his arms violently round and round, and at the 
same time alternately advanced on Mrs. Nickleby and re¬ 
treated from her, in that species of savage dance with which 
boys on market days may be seen to frighten pigs, sheep, 
and other animals, when they give out obstinate indications 
of turning down a wrong street. 

Mrs. Nickleby wasted no words, but uttered an exclamation 
of horror and surprise, and immediately fainted away. 

“ I’ll attend to mama,” said Kate,, hastily; “ I am not at 
all frightened. But please take him away; please take him 
away! ” 

Frank was not at all confident of his power of complying 
with this request, until he bethought himself of the stratagem 
of sending Miss La Creevy on a few paces in advance and 
urging the old gentleman to follow her. It succeeded to a 
miracle; and he went away in a rapture of admiration, 
strongly guarded by Tim Linkinwater on one side and Frank 
himself on the other. 

“ Kate,” murmured Mrs. Nickleby, reviving when the 
coast was clear, “ is he gone ? ” 

She was assured that he was. 

“ I shall never forgive myself, Kate, never! That gentle¬ 
man has lost his senses, and I am the unhappy cause.” 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


429 


CHAPTER XXXII 

T HE little race course at Hampton was in the full tide 
and height of its gaiety, the day as dazzling as day could 
be, the sun high in the cloudless sky and shining in its fullest 
splendour. 

The great race of the day had just been run, and the close 
lines of people on either side of the course, suddenly breaking 
up and pouring into it, imparted a new liveliness to the scene, 
which was again all busy movement. 

Of the gambling booths there was a plentiful show, flourish¬ 
ing in all the splendour of carpeted ground, striped hangings, 
crimson cloth, pinnacled roofs, geranium pots, and livery 
servants. It is into one of these booths that our story takes 
its way. 

An officer was busily plying his vocation of rolling the 
ball when half a dozen persons sauntered through the booth, 
to whom, but without stopping either in his speech or work, 
he bowed respectfully. At the same time he directed, by 
a look, the attention of a man beside him to the tallest figure 
in the group, in recognition of whom the proprietor over near 
the entrance pulled off his hat. This was Sir Mulberry 
Hawk, with whom were his friend and pupil, Lord Veri- 
sopht, and a small train of gentlemanly dressed men, of 
characters more doubtful than obscure. 

The proprietor in a low voice bade Sir Mulberry good day. 
Sir Mulberry in the same tone bade the proprietor go to the 
devil, and turned to speak with his friends. 

There yet remained a slight scar on his face; and when¬ 
ever he was recognised, as he was almost every minute by 
people sauntering in and out, he made a restless effort to 
conceal it with his glove, showing how keenly he felt the 
disgrace he had undergone. 


430 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Ah, Hawk,” said one very sprucely dressed. “ How d’ye 
do, old fellow ? ” 

“ Quite well, quite well.” 

“ That’s right. How d’ye do, Lord Frederick? He’s a 
little pulled down, our friend Sir Mulberry here. Rather 
out of condition still, hey ? ” 

“ He’s in a very good condition; there’s nothing the matter 
with him,” said the young man, carelessly. 

“ Upon my soul I’m glad to hear it. Have you just re¬ 
turned from Brussels ? ” 

“ We only reached town late last night,” said Lord Fred¬ 
erick. Sir Mulberry turned away to speak to one of his 
own party, and feigned not to hear. 

“ Now, upon my life,” said the friend, affecting to speak in a 
whisper, “ it’s an uncommonly bold and game thing in Hawk 
to show himself so soon. I say it advisedly; there’s a vast deal 
of courage in it. You see he has just rusticated long enough 
to excite curiosity, and not long enough for men to have for¬ 
gotten that deuced unpleasant — by the by — you know the 
rights of the affair, of course. Why did you never give these 
confounded papers the lie ? I seldom read the papers, but 
I looked in the papers for that, and may I be-” 

“ Look in the papers tomorrow — no, next day,” inter¬ 
rupted Sir Mulberry, turning suddenly round. 

“ Upon my life, my dear fellow, I seldom or never read 
the papers, but I will, at your recommendation. What shall 
I look for? ” 

“ Good day,” said Sir Mulberry, turning abruptly on his 
heel and drawing his pupil with him. Falling again into 
the loitering careless pace at which they had entered, they 
lounged out, arm in arm. 

“ I won’t give him a case of murder to read,” muttered 
Sir Mulberry, with an oath; “ but it shall be something very 
near it, if whipcord cuts and bludgeons bruise.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


431 


His companion said nothing, but there was something in 
his manner which galled Sir Mulberry to add, with nearly 
as much ferocity as if his friend had been Nicholas himself: 
“ I sent Jenkins to old Nickleby before eight o’clock this 
morning. Old Nickleby’s a staunch one. He was back with 
me before the messenger. I had it all from him in the first 
five minutes. I know where this hound is to be met with; 
time and place both. But there’s no need to talk; tomorrow 
will soon be here.” 

“ And wha-ats to be done tomorrow ? ” inquired Lord 
Frederick. 

Sir Mulberry Hawk honoured him with an angry glance, 
but condescended to return no verbal answer to the inquiry. 
Both walked sullenly on, as though their thoughts were busily 
occupied, until they were quite clear of the crowd and 
almost alone, when Sir Mulberry wheeled round to return. 

“ Stop,” said his companion, “ I want to speak to you 
in earnest. Don’t turn back. Let us walk here a few 
minutes.” 

“ What have you to say to me that you could not say 
yonder as well as here ? ” returned his mentor, disengaging 
his arm. 

“ Hawk, tell me; I must know.” 

“Must know. When! Go on. If you must know, of 
course, there’s no escape for me. Must know! ” 

“ Must ask , then, and must press you for a plain and 
straightforward answer. Is what you have just said only 
a mere whim of the moment, occasioned by your being out 
of humour anc^ irritated, or is it your serious intention, and 
one that you have actually contemplated ? ” 

“ Why, don’t you remember what passed on the subject 
one night, when I was laid up with .a broken limb ? ” said. 
Sir Mulberry, with a sneer. 

“ Perfectly well.” 


4.32 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Then take that for an answer, in the devil’s name, and 
ask me for no other.” 

Such was the ascendency he had acquired over his dupe 
and such the latter’s general habit of submission that, for 
the moment, the young man seemed half-afraid to pursue 
the subject. He soon overcame this feeling, however, and 
retorted angrily: 

“ If I remember what passed at the time you speak of, I 
expressed a strong opinion on this subject and said that, with 
my knowledge or consent, you never should do what you 
threaten now.” 

“ Will you prevent me? ” 

“Ye-es, if I can.” 

“ A very proper saving clause, that last, and one you stand 
in need of. Look to your own business, and leave me to look 
to mine.” 

“ This is mine. I make it mine. I will make it mine. It’s 
mine already. I am more compromised than I should be, as 
it is.” 

“ Do as you please, and what you please, for- yourself. 
Surely that must content you. Do nothing for me; that’s 
all. I advise no man to interfere in proceedings that I 
choose to take. I am sure you know me better than to do 
so. The fact is, I see, you mean to offer me advice. It is well 
meant, I have no doubt, but I reject it. Now, if you please, 
we will return to the carriage. I find no entertainment here, 
but quite the reverse. If we prolong this conversation, we 
might quarrel, which would be no proof of wisdom in either 
you or me.” 

With this rejoinder and waiting for no further discussion, 
Sir Mulberry Hawk yawned and very leisurely turned back. 

Thus they rejoined their friends, each with causes of dis¬ 
like against the other rankling in his breast, the young man 
haunted, besides, with thoughts of the vindictive retalia- 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


433 


tion which was threatened against Nicholas and the de¬ 
termination to prevent it by some strong step, if possible. 

They dined together sumptuously. The wine flowed freely, 
as indeed it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank to rec¬ 
ompense himself for his recent abstinence; the young lord, 
to drown his indignation; the remainder of the party, because 
the wine was of the best and they had nothing to pay. It 
was nearly midnight when they rushed out, wild, burning with 
wine, their blood boiling, and their brains on fire, to the 
gaming table. 

Here they encountered another party, mad like themselves. 
The excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights, was 
not calculated to allay the fever of the time. In that giddy 
whirl of noise and confusion the men were delirious. Who 
thought of money, ruin, or the morrow, in the savage in¬ 
toxication of the moment? Tumult and frenzy reigned 
supreme, when a noise arose that drowned all others, and 
two men, seizing each other by the throat, struggled into the 
middle of the room. 

A dozen voices, until now unheard, called aloud to part 
them. Those w^ho had kept themselves cool to win and who 
earned their living in such scenes, threw themselves upon the 
combatants and, forcing them asunder, dragged them some 
space apart. 

“ Let me go! ” cried Sir Mulberry, in a thick, hoarse voice. 
“ He struck me! Do you hear ? I say, he struck me. Have 
I a friend here? Who is this? Westwood. Do you hear 
me ? I say he struck me! ” 

“ I hear, I hear,” replied one of those who held him. 
“ Come away, for tonight! ” 

“ I will not. A dozen men about us saw the blow.” 

“ Tomorrow will be ample time.” 

“ It will not be ample time! Tonight, at once, here ! ” 
His passion was so great that he could not ^articulate, but 


434 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

stood clenching his fist, tearing his hair, and stamping on 
the ground. 

“ What is this, my lord? ” said one of those who surrounded 
him. “ Have blows passed ? ” 

“ One blow has,” was the panting reply. “ I struck him. 
I proclaim it to all here! I struck him, and he knows why. 
I say, with him, let this quarrel be adjusted now. Cap¬ 
tain Adams,” said the young lord, looking hurriedly about him 
and addressing one of those who had interposed, “ let me 
speak with you.” 

The person addressed stepped forward, and taking the 
young man’s arm, they retired together, followed shortly 
afterwards by Sir Mulberry and his friend. 

Disturbed in their orgies, the party broke up; some reeled 
away with looks of tipsy gravity; others withdrew, noisily 
discussing what had just occurred; the gentlemen of honour 
who lived upon their winnings remarked to each other as 
they went out that Hawk was a good shot.; those who had 
been most noisy fell fast asleep upon the sofas and thought 
no more about it. 

Meanwhile the two seconds, each with his principal, met 
together in another room, both utterly heartless, both men 
about town, both thoroughly initiated in its worst vices, 
both deeply in debt, both fallen from some higher estate, 
both addicted to every depravity. 

It was a profligate haunt of the worst repute and not a 
place in which such an affair was likely to awaken any 
sympathy for either party. 

“ This is an awkward affair, Adams,” said Mr. Westwood, 
drawing himself up. 

“Very,” returned the captain; “a.blow has been struck, 
and there is but one course.” 

“ No apology, I suppose?” said Mr. Westwood. 

“ Not a syllable, sir, from my man, if we talk till dooms- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


435 


day. The original cause of dispute, I understand, was some 
girl or other, to whom your principal applied certain terms 
which Lord Frederick, defending the girl, repelled. Sir 
Mulberry was sarcastic; Lord Frederick was excited and 
struck him. That blow, unless there is a full retraction on 
the part of Sir Mulberry, Lord Frederick is ready to justify.” 

“ There is no more to be said, but to settle the hour and 
the place of meeting. It’s a responsibility, but there is a 
strong feeling to have it over. Do you object to-say at sun¬ 
rise? ” said Mr. Westwood. 

“ Sharp work; however, as negotiation is only a waste 
of words, no,” said Captain Adams. 

“ Something may possibly be said out of doors which ren¬ 
ders it desirable that we should be off without delay and quite 
clear of town,” said Mr. Westwood. “ What do you say 
to one of the meadows opposite Twickenham, by the river¬ 
side? ” 

The captain saw no objection. 

After a few other preliminaries, equally brief, and having 
settled the road each party should take to avoid suspicion, 
they separated. 

“ We shall just have comfortable time, my lord,” said the 
captain, to Lord Verisopht when he had communicated the 
arrangements, “ to call at my rooms for a case of pistols and 
then jog coolly down. If you will allow me to dismiss your 
servant, we’ll take my cab, for yours, perhaps, might be 
recognised.” 

What a contrast, when they reached the street, to the 
scene they had just left! It was already daybreak. For the 
flaring yellow light within was substituted the clear, bright, 
glorious morning; for a hot, close atmosphere, tainted with 
the smell of expiring lamps and reeking with the steams of 
riot and dissipation, the free, fresh, wholesome air. But to 
the fevered head on which that cool air blew, it seemed to 


436 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


come laden with remorse for time misspent and countless 
opportunities neglected. With throbbing veins and burning 
skin, eyes wild and heavy, thought hurried and disordered, 
he felt as though the light were a reproach and shrank in¬ 
voluntarily from the day as if he were some foul and hideous 
thing. 

“ Shivering ? ” said the captain. “ You are cold.” 

“ Rather ” 

“ It does strike cool, coming out of those hot rooms. Wrap 
that cloak about you. So — so. Now we’re off.” 

They rattled through the quiet streets, made their call 
at the captain’s lodgings, cleared the town, and emerged 
upon the open road without hindrance or molestation. 

Fields, trees, gardens, hedges, everything looked very 
beautiful. The young man scarcely seemed to have noticed 
them before, though he had passed the same objects a 
thousand times. There was a peace and serenity upon them 
all strangely at variance with the bewilderment and con¬ 
fusion of his own half-sobered thoughts, and yet impressive 
and welcome. He had no fear upon his mind; but as he 
looked about him, he had less anger; and though all old 
delusions relative to his worthless late companion were now 
cleared away, he rather wished he had never known him than 
thought of its having come to this. 

They stopped at the avenue gate and alighted, leaving the 
carriage to the care of the servant, who was a smart fellow 
and nearly as well accustomed to such proceedings as his 
master. Sir Mulberry and his friend were already there. 
All four walked in profound silence up the aisle of stately 
elm trees, which, meeting far above their heads, formed a 
long green perspective of gothic arches terminating, like 
some old ruin, in the open sky. 

After a pause and a brief conference between the seconds, 
they at length turned to the right and, taking a track across 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


437 


a little meadow, came into some fields beyond. In one of 
these, they stopped. The ground was measured, some usual 
forms gone through, the two principals were placed front to 
front at the distance agreed upon, and Sir Mulberry turned 
his face towards his young adversary for the first time. He 
was very pale, his eyes were bloodshot, his dress disordered, 
and his hair dishevelled. The face expressed nothing 
but violent and evil passions. He shaded his eyes with his 
hand, gazed at his opponent steadfastly for a few moments, 
and then, taking the weapon which was tendered to him, 
bent his eyes upon that and looked up no more until the 
word was given, when he hastily fired. 

The two shots were fired, as nearly as possible, at the 
same instant. In that instant, the young lord turned his 
head sharply round, fixed upon his adversary a ghastly stare, 
and without a groan or stagger fell down dead. 

“ He’s gone! ” cried Westwood, who, with the other second, 
had run up to the body and fallen on one knee beside it. 

“ His blood on his own head,” said Sir Mulberry. “ He 
brought this upon himself and forced it upon me.” 

“ Captain Adams,” cried Westwood, hastily, “ I call you 
to witness that this was fairly done. Hawk, we have not a 
moment to lose. We must leave this place immediately, push 
for Brighton, and cross to France with all speed. This has 
been a bad business, and may be worse, if we delay a moment. 
Adams, consult your own safety, and don’t remain here; the 
living before the dead. Good-by! ” 

With these words, he seized Sir Mulberry by the arm and 
hurried him away. 

So died Lord Frederick Verisopht, by the hand which he 
had loaded with gifts and clasped a thousand times; by the 
act of him, but for whom and others like him, he might have 
lived a happy man and died with children’s faces round his 
bed. 


438 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

T HERE go the three-quarter past! ” muttered Newman 
Noggs to himself, listening to the chimes of some 
neighbouring church, “ and my dinner time’s two. He does 
it on purpose. He makes a point of it. It’s just like him.” 

It was in his own little den of an office and on the top of 
his official stool that Newman thus spoke. “ I don’t believe 
he ever had an appetite except for pounds, shillings, and 
pence, and with them he’s ^s greedy as a wolf. I should 
like to have him compelled to swallow one of every English 
coin. The penny would be an awkward morsel — but the 
crown — ha! ha! ” 

“ Five minutes to three,” growled Newman, “ it can’t 
want more by this time; and I had my breakfast at eight 
o’clock, and such a breakfast! and my right dinner time is 
two! And I might have a nice little bit of hot roast spoiling 
at home all this time — how does he know I haven’t! ‘ Don’t 
go till I come back,’ ‘ Don’t go till I come back,’ day after 
day. What do you always go out at my dinner time for 
then — eh? Don’t you know it’s nothing but aggravation 
— eh?” 

These words, though uttered in a very loud key, were 
addressed to nothing but empty air. The recital, however, 
seemed to have the effect of making Newman Noggs des¬ 
perate. He flattened his old hat upon his head and declared 
with great vehemence that come what might he would go to 
dinner that very minute. Carrying this resolution into 
instant effect, he had advanced as far as the passage, when 
the sound of the latch key in the street door caused him to 
make a very sudden retreat into his own office again, saying 
to himself: 

“ Here he is and somebody with him. Now it’ll be ‘ Stop 
till this gentleman’s gone.’ But I won’t. That’s flat.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


439 


So saying, Newman slipped into a tall empty closet, which 
opened with two half-doors, and shut himself up, intending 
to slip out as soon as Ralph was safe inside his own room. 

“ Noggs! ” cried Ralph Nickleby, “ Where is that fellow, 
Noggs? ” 

But not a word said Newman. 

“ The dog has gone to his dinner, though I told him not/’ 
muttered Ralph, looking into the office and pulling out his 
watch. “Humph! You had better come in here, Gride. 
My man’s out, and the sun is hot upon my room. This is 
cool and in the shade, if you don’t mind roughing it.” 

“ Not at all, Mr. Nickleby. Oh, not at all. All places 
are alike to me, sir. Ah, very nice indeed. Oh, very nice! ” 

The person who made this reply was a little old man of 
seventy or seventy-five years of age of a very lean figure, 
much bent, and slightly twisted. He wore a grey coat and 
such scanty trousers as displayed his shrunken spindle shanks 
in their full ugliness. His nose and chin were sharp and 
prominent; his jaws had fallen inward from loss of teeth; 
his face was shrivelled and yellow. The whole air and attitude 
of the form was one of stealthy catlike obsequiousness; the 
whole expression of the face was concentrated in a wrinkled 
leer. Such was old Arthur Gride, as he sat in a low chair 
looking up into the face of Ralph Nickleby, who, lounging on 
the tall office’stool with his arms upon his knees, looked down 
into his; a match for him, on whatever errand he had come. 

“ And how have you been? ” said Gride, pretending great 
interest in Ralph’s state of health. “ I haven’t seen you for 
— oh! not for-” 

“ Not for a long time,” said Ralph, with a peculiar smile, 
showing that he very well knew it was not on a mere visit 
of compliment that his friend had come. “ It was a narrow 
chance that you saw me now, for I had only just come up 
to the door as you turned the corner.” 


440 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I am very lucky,” observed Gride. 

“ So men say,” replied Ralph drily. 

The older money lender, Gride, wagged his chin and smiled, 
but he originated no new remark, and they sat for some little 
time without speaking. Each was looking out to take the 
other at a disadvantage. 

“Come, Gride, what’s in the wind today?” said Ralph 
at length. 

“ Oh dear, dear, what a bold man you are! Aha, you’re a 
bold man, Mr. Nickleby! ” 

“ Why, you have a sleek and slinking way with you that 
makes me seem so by contrast. I don’t know but that yours 
may answer better, but I want the patience for it,” said 
Ralph. 

“ You were a born genius, Mr. Nickleby. Deep, deep, 
deep. Ah! ” 

“ Deep enough to know that I shall need all the depth I 
have, when men like you begin to compliment. You know 
I have stood by when you fawned and flattered other people, 
and I remember pretty well what that always led to.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. “ So 
you do, so you do, no doubt. Not a man knows it better. 
Well, it’s a pleasant thing to think that you remember old 
times. Oh, dear! ” 

“ Now then,” said Ralph, composedly, “ what’s in the 
wind, I ask again? What is it?” 

“ See that now! He can’t even keep from business while 
we’re chatting over bygones. Oh dear, dear, what a man it 
is! ” 

“ Which of the bygones do you want to revive?” said 
Ralph; “ one of them, I know, or you wouldn’t talk about 
them.” 

“ He suspects even me! ” cried old Arthur, holding up his 
hands. “Even me! Oh, dear, even me. What a man it 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


441 


is! Ha, ha, ha! What a man it is! Mr. Nickleby against 
all the world. There’s nobody like him. A giant among 
pigmies, a giant, a giant! ” 

Ralph looked at the old dog with a quiet smile as he 
chuckled on in this strain, and Newman Noggs in the closet 
felt his heart sink within him as the prospect of dinner grew 
fainter and fainter. 

“ I must humour him, though,” cried old Arthur; “ he must 
have his way — a wilful man, as the Scotch say — well, well, 
they’re a wise people, the Scotch. He will talk about busi¬ 
ness, and won’t give away his time for nothing. He’s very 
right. Time is money, time is money.” 

“ He was one of us who made that saying, I should think,” 
said Ralph. “ Time is money, and very good money, too, 
to those who reckon interest by it. Time is money! Yes, 
and time costs money; it’s rather an expensive article to some 
people we could name, or I forget my trade.” 

In rejoinder to this, old Arthur again raised his hands, 
again chuckled, and again ejaculated “What a man it is! ” 
which done, he dragged the low chair a little nearer to Ralph’s 
high stool and, looking upwards into his immovable face, 
said, 

“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you that I 
was — that I was — going to be married ? ” 

“ I should tell you, that for some purpose of your own 
you told a lie and that it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t 
be the last; that I wasn’t surprised, and wasn’t to be 
taken in.” 

“ Then I tell you seriously that I am,” said old Arthur. 

“ And I tell you seriously what I told you this minute. 
Stay. Let me look at you. There’s a liquorish deviltry in 
your face. What is this? ” 

“ I wouldn’t deceive you, you know,” whined Arthur Gride. 
“ I couldn’t do it. I should be mad to try. I, I, to deceive 


442 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Mr. Nickleby! The pigmy to impose upon the giant. I 
ask again — he, he, he! — what should you say to me if I was 
to tell you that I was going to be married ? ” 

“ To some old hag? ” said Ralph. 

“ No, no/’ cried Arthur, interrupting him and rubbing his 
hands in an ecstasy. “ Wrong, wrong again. Mr. Nickleby 
for once at fault — quite out!. To a young and beautiful 
girl; fresh, lovely, bewitching, and not nineteen. Dark 
eyes, long eyelashes, ripe and ruddy lips that to look at is 
to long to kiss, beautiful clustering hair that one’s fingers 
itch to play with, such a waist as might make a man clasp the 
air involuntarily thinking of twining his arm about it, little 
feet that tread so lightly they hardly seem to walk upon the 
ground — to marry all this, sir, — hey, hey! ” 

“ This is something more than common drivelling,” said 
Ralph, after listening with a curled lip to the old sinner’s 
raptures. “ The girl’s name?” 

“ Oh deep, deep! See now how deep that is! He knows 
I want his help, he knows he can give it me, he knows it must 
all turn to his advantage, he sees the thing already. Her 
name — is there nobody within hearing ? ” 

“ Why, who in the devil should there be? ” retorted Ralph. 

“ I didn’t know but that perhaps somebody might be 
passing up or down the stairs,” said Arthur Gride, after 
looking out at the door and carefully reclosing it; “ or but 
that your man might have come back and might have been 
listening outside. Clerks and servants have a trick of listen¬ 
ing, and I should have been very uncomfortable. Is Mr. 
Noggs-” 

“ Curse Mr. Noggs, and go on with what you have to say,” 
rejoined Ralph. 

“ Curse Mr. Noggs by all means,” said old Arthur. “ I 
am sure I have not the least objection to that. Her name 



“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you — that I was 
— going to be married? ” 









































444 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Well,” said Ralph, rendered very irritable by old Arthur’s 
pausing again. “ What is it ? ” 

“ Madeline Bray.” 

“ Bray/’ said Ralph. “ Bray — there was young Bray of 
— no, he never had a daughter.” 

“ You remember Bray? ” asked Arthur Gride. 

“ No,” said Ralph, looking vacantly at him. 

“Not Walter Bray! The dashing man who used his 
handsome wife so ill ? ” 

“ If you seek to recall any particular dashing man to my 
recollection by such a trait as that, I shall confound him with 
nine-tenths of the dashing men I have ever known.” 

“ Tut, tut. That Bray both of us did business with. You 
can’t have forgotten Bray. Why he owes you money! ” 

“Oh him! Ay, ay. Now you speak. Oh! It’s his 
daughter, is it ? ” 

“ I knew you couldn’t forget him, when you came to think 
for a moment.” 

“ You were right,” answered Ralph. “ But old Arthur 
Gride and matrimony is a most anomalous conjunction of 
words. Old Arthur Gride and dark eyes and eyelashes, and 
lips that to look at is to long to kiss, and clustering hair that 
he wants to play with, and waists that he wants to span, and 
little feet that don’t tread upon anything — old Arthur Gride 
and such things as these is more monstrous still. Plainly, 
friend Arthur, if you want any help from me in this business 
(which of course you do, or you would not be here), speak 
out and to the purpose. And above all don’t talk to me of it’s 
turning to my advantage, for I know it must turn to yours 
also, and to a good round tune, too, or you would have no 
finger in such a pie as this.” 

“ Well,” said Gride, “ the little plan I have in mind to 
bring this about (I haven’t offered myself even to the father 
yet), I should have told you, but you seem to have guessed 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 445 

something of it already. Ah! Oh dear, what an edged tool 
you are! ” 

“ Don’t play with me then,” said Ralph, impatiently. 
“ You know the old proverb.” 

“ A reply always on the tip of his tongue! ” cried old 
Arthur, raising his hands and eyes in admiration. “ He is 
always prepared! Oh dear, what a blessing to have such a 
ready wit, and so much ready money to back it! ” Then, 
suddenly changing his tone, he went on: 

“ I have been backwards and forwards to Bray’s lodgings 
several times within the last six months. It is just half a 
year since I first saw this delicate morsel, and — oh dear — 
what a delicate morsel it is! But that is neither here nor 
there. I am his creditor for seventeen hundred pounds.” 

“ You talk as if you were the only creditor,” said Ralph, 
pulling out his pocketbook. “ I am another for nine hundred 
and seventy-five pounds four and threepence.” 

“ The only other, Mr. Nickleby,” said old Arthur eagerly. 
“ The only other. We both fell into the same snare. Oh, 
dear, what a pitfall it was! It almost ruined me. Ah! It 
went very nigh to ruin me, that loss did! ” 

“ Go on with your scheme,” said Ralph. “ It’s of no use 
raising the cry of our trade just now; there’s nobody to hear 
us.” 

“ It’s always as well to talk that way,” returned old Arthur, 
with a chuckle, “ whether there’s anybody to hear us or not. 
Practice makes perfect, you know. Now, if I offer myself 
to Bray as his son-in-law, upon the condition that the moment 
I am fast married he shall be quickly released, and have an 
allowance to live just t’other side the water like a gentleman 
(he can’t live long, for I have asked his doctor, and he declares 
his complaint is one of the heart and it is impossible), and 
if all the advantages of this condition are properly stated and 
dwelt upon to him, do you think he could resist me? And 


446 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


if he could not resist me, do you think his daughter could 
resist him ? Shouldn’t I have her Mrs. Arthur Gride — 
pretty Mrs. Arthur Gride — a titbit — a dainty chick — 
shouldn’t I have her Mrs. Arthur Gride in a week, a month, 
a day, — any time I chose to name ? ” 

“ Go on,” said Ralph, nodding his head deliberately. “ Go 
on. You didn’t come here to ask me that.” 

“ Oh, dear, how you talk! ” cried old Arthur, edging himself 
closer still to Ralph. “ Of course, I didn’t; I don’t pretend 
I did! I came to ask you what you would take from me, if 
I prospered with the father, for this debt of yours. You 
are such a good friend. We have always been on such good 
terms. You won’t be hard upon me, I know. Now, will 
you? ” 

“ There’s something more,” said Ralph. 

“ Yes, yes, there is, but you won’t give me time. I want 
a backer in this matter: one who can talk, and urge, and 
press a point, which you can do as no man can. I can’t do 
that, for I am a poor, timid, nervous creature. Now if you 
get a good composition for this debt, which you long ago 
gave up for lost, you’ll stand my friend and help me. Won’t 
you ? ” 

“ There’s something more,” said Ralph. 

“ No, no, indeed,” cried Arthur Gride. 

“ Yes, yes, indeed, I tell you,” said Ralph. 

“Oh! ” returned old Arthur, pretending to be suddenly 
enlightened. “ You mean something more, as concerns myself 
and my intention. Ay, surely, surely. Shall I mention 
that ? ” 

“ I think you had better,” rejoined Ralph, drily. 

“ I didn’t like to trouble you with that, because I supposed 
your interest would cease with your own concern in the 
affair. That’s kind of you to ask. Oh dear, how very kind 
of you! Why, supposing I had a knowledge of some prop- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


447 


erty — some little property — very little — to which this 
pretty chick was entitled, which nobody does or can know 
of at this time, but which her husband could sweep into his 
pouch, if he knew as much as I do, would that account 
for-” 

“ For the whole proceeding,” rejoined Ralph, abruptly. 
“ Now let me turn this matter over, and consider what I ought 
to have if I should help you to success.” 

“ But don’t be hard,” cried old Arthur, raising his hand 
with an imploring gesture and speaking in a tremulous voice. 
“ Don’t be too hard upon me. It’s a very small property, 
it is indeed. Say ten shillings in the pound, and we’ll close 
the bargain. It’s more than I ought to give, but you’re so 
kind — shall we say the ten? Do now, do.” 

Ralph took no notice of these supplications, but sat for 
three or four minutes, looking thoughtfully at the person 
from whom they proceeded. Finally he said: 

“ If you married this girl without me, you must pay my 
debt in full, because you couldn’t set her father free other¬ 
wise. It’s plain, then, that I must have the whole amount. 
That’s the first article of the treaty. Second, for my trouble 
in negotiation and persuasion, and helping you to this fortune, 
I must have five hundred pounds. That’s very little, because 
you have the ripe lips and the clustering hair, and what not 
all to yourself. Third, I require that you execute a bond to 
me, this day, binding yourself in the payment of these two 
sums before noon on the day of your marriage with Miss 
Madeline Bray. You have told me I can urge and press a 
point. I press this one and will take nothing less than these 
terms. Accept them if you like. If not, marry her without 
me if you can. I shall still get my debt.” 

To all entreaties and offers of compromise Ralph was deaf 
as an adder. He would enter into no further discussion of 
the subject, and while old Arthur dilated on the enormity of 



448 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


his demands and proposed modifications of them, sat per¬ 
fectly mute, looking over the entries and papers in his pocket- 
book. Finding that it was impossible to make any impres¬ 
sion upon his staunch friend, Arthur Gride consented with 
a heavy heart to the proposed treaty and upon the spot 
filled up the bond required, after exacting the condition that 
Mr. Nickleby should accompany him to Bray’s lodgings 
that very hour and open negotiation at once. 

The worthy gentlemen went out together shortly after¬ 
wards, and Newman emerged from the cupboard, out of the 
upper door of which at the imminent risk of detection, he had 
more than once thrust his nose when such parts of the subject 
were under discussion as interested him most. 

“ I have no appetite now,” said Newman Noggs. Having 
delivered this observation in a very grievous and doleful tone, 
he reached the door in one long limp, and came back again 
in another. “ I don’t know who she may be, or what she 
may be, but I pity her with all my heart and soul; and I 
can’t help her! nor can I help any of the people against 
whom a hundred tricks, but none so vile as this, are plotted 
every day! Well, that adds to my pain, but not to theirs. 
The thing is no worse because I know it, and it tortures me 
as well as them. Gride and Nickleby! Good pair for a 
curricle. Oh roguery, roguery, roguery! ” 

With these reflections and a very hard knock on the crown of 
his unfortunate hat at each repetition of the last word, New¬ 
man Noggs went forth to seek such consolation as might be 
derivable from the beef and greens of some cheap eating house. 

Meanwhile the two plotters had gone to the same house 
where Nicholas had gone for the first time a few mornings 
before and, having obtained access to Mr. Bray and found 
his daughter from home, had at length laid open the real 
object of their visit. Ralph did nearly all the talking, saying 
at length; 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


449 


“ There he sits, Mr. Bray/’ as the invalid, not yet recovered 
from his surprise, reclined in his chair, looking alternately 
at him and Arthur Gride. “ Here is an offer of marriage that 
many a titled father would leap at for his child; Mr. Arthur 
Gride, with the fortune of a prince. Think what a haul it 
is! ” 

“ My daughter, sir,” returned Bray, haughtily, “ as I 
have brought her up, would be a rich recompense for the 
largest fortune that a man could bestow in exchange for her 
hand.” 

“ Precisely what I told you,” said the artful Ralph, turn¬ 
ing to his friend, old Arthur. “ Precisely what made me 
consider the thing so fair and easy. There is no obligation 
on either side. You have money, and Miss Madeline has 
beauty and worth. She has youth; you have money. She 
has not money, you have not youth. Tit for tat, quits, a 
match of heaven’s own making.” 

“ Matches are made in heaven, they say,” added Arthur 
Gride, leering hideously at the father-in-law he wanted. 
“ If we are married, it will be destiny, according to that.” 

“ Then think, Mr. Bray,” said Ralph, “ think what a stake 
is involved in the acceptance or rejection of these proposals 
of my friend.” 

“How can I accept or reject?” interrupted Mr. Bray, 
with an irritable consciousness that it really rested with him 
to decide. “ It is for my daughter to accept or reject; it is 
for my daughter. You know that.” 

“True,” said Ralph, emphatically, “but you have still 
the power to advise, to state the reasons for and against, 
to hint a wish.” 

“To hint a wish, sir! ” returned the debtor, proud and 
mean by turns, and selfish at all times. “ I am her father, 
am I not? Why should I hint and beat about the bush? 
Do you suppose, as her mother’s friends and my enemies do 


450 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


— a curse upon them all! — that there is anything in what 
she has done for me but duty, sir, but duty? Or do you 
think that my having been unfortunate is a reason why our 
positions should be changed and that she should command 
and I should obey ? Hint a wish, too! Perhaps you think, 
because you see me scarcely able to leave this chair without 
assistance, that I am some broken-spirited dependent creature 
without the courage or power to do what I think best for my 
own child. Still the power to hint a wish! I hope so! ” 

“ Pardon me,” returned Ralph, who thoroughly knew his 
man and had taken his ground accordingly, “you do not 
hear me out. I was about to say that your hinting a 
wish, even hinting a wish, would be equivalent to com¬ 
manding.” 

“ Why, of course, it would,” retorted Mr. Bray, in an 
exasperated tone. “ If you don’t happen to have heard of 
the time, sir, I tell you that there was a time when I carried 
every point in triumph against her mother’s whole family, 
although they had power and wealth on their side, by my 
will alone.” 

“ Still,” rejoined Ralph, as mildly as his nature would 
allow him, “ you have not heard me out. You are a man 
yet qualified to shine in society with many years of life before 
you; that is, if you lived in freer air and under brighter 
skies and chose your own companions. Gaiety is your ele¬ 
ment. You have shone in it before. Fashion and freedom 
for you. France and an annuity that would support you 
there in luxury would give you a new lease of life, would 
transfer you to a new existence. The town rang with your 
expensive pleasures once, and you could blaze on a new 
scene again, profiting by experience and living a little at 
others’ cost, instead of letting others live at yours. What 
is there on the reverse side of the picture? What is there? 
I don’t know which is the nearest churchyard, but a grave- 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


451 


stone there, wherever it is, and a date, perhaps two years 
hence, perhaps twenty. That’s all.” 

Mr. Bray rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and 
shaded his face with his hand. 

“ I speak plainly,” said Ralph, sitting down beside him, 
" because I feel strongly. It’s my interest that you should 
marry your daughter to my friend Gride, because then he 
sees me paid — in part, that is. I don’t disguise it. I 
acknowledge it openly. But what interest have you in 
recommending her to such a step? Keep that in view. 
She might object, remonstrate, shed tears, talk of his being 
too old, and plead that her life would be rendered miserable. 
But what is it now ? What is it now, I say, or what has it a 
chance of being? If you died, indeed, the people you hate 
would make her happy. But can you bear the thought of 
that? ” 

“ No! ” returned Bray, urged by a vindictive impulse he 
could not repress. 

“I should imagine not, indeed! ” said Ralph. “If she 
profits by anybody’s death,” this was said in a lower tone, 
“ let it be by her husband’s. Don’t let her have to look back 
to yours as the event from which to date a happier life. 
Where is the objection? Let me hear it stated. What is 
it? That her suitor is an old man? Why, how often do 
men of family and fortune, who haven’t your excuse, how 
often do they marry their daughters to old men or, (worse 
still) to young men without heads or hearts, to please some 
idle vanity, strengthen some family interest, or secure some 
seat in Parliament! Judge for her, sir, judge for her. You 
must know best, and she will live to thank you.” 

“Hush! hush! ” cried Mr. Bray, suddenly starting up, 
and covering Ralphs mouth with his trembling hand. “ I 
hear her at the door! ” 

There was a gleam of conscience in the shame and terror 


452 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


of this hasty action, which, in one short moment, tore the 
thin covering from the cruel design and laid it bare in all 
its meanness and heartless deformity. The father fell into 
his chair pale, and trembling. Arthur Gride plucked and 
fumbled at his hat and dared not raise his eyes from the 
floor. Even Ralph crouched for the moment like a beaten 
hound, cowed by the presence of one young innocent girl. 

The effect was almost as brief as sudden. Ralph was the 
first to recover himself and, observing Madeline’s looks of 
alarm, entreated the poor girl to be composed, assuring her 
that there was no cause for fear. 

“ A sudden spasm,” said Ralph, glancing at Mr. Bray. “ He 
is quite well now.” 

It might have moved a very hard and worldly heart to see 
the young and beautiful girl, whose certain misery they had 
been contriving but a minute before, throw her arms about 
her father’s neck and pour forth words of tender sympathy 
and love, the sweetest a father’s ear can know or child’s lips 
form. 

“ Madeline,” said her father, gently disengaging himself, “ it 
was nothing.” 

“ But you had that spasm yesterday, and it is terrible to 
see you in such pain. Can I do nothing for you? ” 

“ Nothing just now. Here are two gentlemen, Madeline, 
one of whom you have seen before. She used to say,” 
added Mr. Bray, addressing Arthur Gride, “ that the sight 
of you always made me worse. That was natural, knowing 
what she did, and only what she did, of our connexion and 
its results. Well, well. Perhaps she may change her mind 
on that point. Girls have leave to change their minds, you 
know. You are very tired, my dear.” 

“ I am not, indeed.” 

“ Indeed you are. You do too much.” 

“ I wish I could do more.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


453 


“ I know you do, but you overtask your strength. This 
wretched life, my love, of daily labour and fatigue is more 
than you can bear. I am sure it is. Poor Madeline! ” 

With these and many more kind words, Mr. Bray drew 
his daughter to him and kissed her cheek affectionately. 

“ You will communicate with us again? ” said Ralph. 

“ Yes, yes,” returned Mr. Bray, hastily thrusting his 
daughter aside. “ In a week. In a week. Give me a week.” 

“ One week,” said Ralph, turning to his companion, “ from 
today. Good morning. Miss Madeline, I kiss your hand.” 

“ We will shake hands, Gride,” said Mr. Bray, extending 
his, as old Arthur bowed. “ You mean well, no doubt. I 
am bound to say so now. If I owed you money, that was 
not your fault. Madeline, my love, your hand here.” 

“ Oh dear! If the young lady would condescend! Only 
the tips of her fingers! ” said Arthur, hesitating and half¬ 
retreating. 

Madeline shrank involuntarily from the goblin figure, but 
she placed the tips of her fingers in his hand and instantly 
withdrew them. After an ineffectual clutch, intended to 
detain and carry them to his lips, old Arthur gave his own 
fingers a mumbling kiss, and with many amorous distor¬ 
tions of visage went in pursuit of his friend, who was by this 
time in the street. 

“ What does he say, what does he say ? What does the 
giant say to the pigmy ? ” inquired Arthur Gride, hobbling up 
to Ralph. 

“ What does the pigmy say to the giant? ” rejoined Ralph, 
elevating his eyebrows and looking down upon his questioner. 

“ He doesn’t know what to say,” replied Arthur Gride. 
“ He hopes and fears. But is she not a dainty morsel? ” 

“I have no great taste for beauty,” growled Ralph. 

“ But I have,” rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. “ Oh 
dear! How handsome her eyes looked when she was stooping 


454 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


over him! Such long lashes, such delicate fringe! She — 
she — looked at me so soft.” 

“ Not overlovingly, I think, did she? ” said Ralph. 

“'No, you think not? But don’t you think it can be 
brought about? Don’t you think it can? ” 

Ralph looked at him with a contemptuous frown and 
replied with a sneer and between his teeth: 

“ Did you mark his telling her she was tired and did too 
much, and overtasked her strength? ” 

“ Ay, ay. What of it?” 

“ When do you think he ever told her that before ? The 
life is more than she can bear! Yes, yes. He’ll change it 
for her.” 

“ D’ye think it’s done? ” inquired old Arthur, peering into 
his companion’s face with half-closed eyes. 

“ I’m sure it’s done,” said Ralph. “ He is trying to deceive 
himself, even before our eyes, already. He is making believe 
that he thinks of her good and not his own. He is acting a 
virtuous part and is so considerate and affectionate that his 
daughter scarcely knew him. I saw a tear of surprise in 
her eye. There’ll be a few more tears of surprise there before 
long, though a different kind. Oh, we may wait with confi¬ 
dence for this day week.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 

I N an old house, dismal, dark, and dusty, which seemed 
to have withered, like himself, and to have grown yellow 
and shrivelled in hoarding him from the light of the day, as 
he had in hoarding his money, lived Arthur Gride. Meagre 
old chairs and tables of spare and bony make were ranged in 
grim array against the gloomy walls. A tall grim clock upon 
the stairs, with long lean hands and famished face, ticked in 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


455 


cautious whispers; and when it struck the time in thin and 
piping sounds like an old man's voice, it rattled as if it were 
pinched with hunger. 

The dark square lumbering bedsteads seemed built for 
restless dreams. The musty hangings seemed to creep in 
scanty folds together, whispering among themselves, when 
rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge of the tempt¬ 
ing wares that lurked within the dark and tight-locked 
closets. 

From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare 
and hungry house there came, one morning, the tremulous 
tones of old Gride's voice, as it feebly chirruped forth the 
end of some forgotten song. 

Ta — ran — tan — too, 

Throw the old shoe, 

And may the wedding be lucky! 

which he repeated in the same shrill quavering tones again 
and again until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist 
and to pursue in silence the occupation upon which he was 
engaged. 

This occupation was to take down from the shelves of a 
worm-eaten wardrobe, a quantity of frowsy garments, one 
by one; to subject each to a careful and minute inspection 
by holding it up against the light, and, after folding it with 
great exactness, to lay it on one or other of two little heaps 
beside him. He never took two articles of clothing out to¬ 
gether, but always brought them forth singly and never failed 
to shut the wardrobe door and turn the key between each 
visit to its shelves. 

“ The snuff-coloured suit," said Arthur Gride, surveying a 
threadbare coat. “ Did I look well in snuff colour? Let me 
think." 

The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable, 


456 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

and he folded the garment once more, laid it aside, and 
mounted on a chair to get down another, chirping while he 
did so: 

Young, loving, and fair, 

Oh, what happiness there! 

The wedding is sure to be lucky! 

“ They always put in ‘ young ’ but songs are only written 
for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poor 
country people sang when I was a little boy. Though, stop 
— young is quite right, too — it means the bride — yes. He, 
he, he! It means the bride. Oh, dear, that’s good. That’s 
very good. And true besides — quite true! ” 

In the satisfaction of this discovery he went over the verse 
again with increased expression and a shake or two here and 
there. He then resumed his employment. 

“ The bottle green, the bottle green was a famous suit to 
wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker’s, and there 
was — he, he, he! a — tarnished shilling in the waistcoat 
pocket. To think that the pawnbroker shouldn’t have known 
there was a shilling in it! I knew it! I felt it when I was 
examining the quality. Oh, what a dull dog of a pawn¬ 
broker! It was a lucky suit, too, this bottle green. The 
vefy day I put it on first, old Lord Mallowford was burnt to 
death in his bed, and all the post bonds to be paid after 
death fell in, and I made more money. I’ll be married 
in the bottle green, Peg. Peg Sliderskew — I’ll wear the 
bottle green! ” 

This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room door, 
brought into the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed 
old woman, palsy-stricken, and hideously ugly, who, wiping 
her shrivelled face upon her dirty apron, inquired in that 
subdued tone in which deaf people commonly speak: 

“ Was that you a’calling, or only the clock a’striking ? My 
hearing gets so bad I never know which is which; but when 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 457 

I hear a noise, I know it must be one of you, because nothing 
else ever stirs in the house.” 

“ Me, Peg, me,” said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the 
breast to render the reply nmre intelligible. 

“ You, eh? And what do you want? ” 

“ I’ll be married in the bottle green.” 

“ It’s a deal too good to be married in, master,” rejoined 
Peg, after a short inspection of the suit. “ Haven’t you got 
anything worse than this ? ” 

“ Nothing that’ll do.” 

“ Why not do ? Why don’t you wear your everyday 
clothes, like a man — eh ? ” 

“ They an’t becoming enough, Peg.” 

“ Not what enough? ” 

“ Becoming.” 

“Becoming what? Not becoming too old to wear?” 

Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his house¬ 
keeper’s deafness, as he roared in her ear: 

“ Not smart enough! I want to look as well as I can.” 

“ Look! If she’s as handsome as you say she is, she won’t 
look much at you, master, take your oath of that; and as 
to how you look yourself — pepper and salt, bottle green, 
sky blue, or tartan plaid will make no difference in you.” 

With which consolatory assurance, Peg Sliderskew gathered 
up the chosen suit and, folding her skinny arms upon the 
bundle, stood mouthing and grinning and blinking her watery 
eyes like an uncouth figure in some monstrous piece of 
carving. 

“ You’re in a funny humour, an’t you, Peg? ” 

“ Why, isn’t it enough to make me ? I shall soon enough 
be put out of humour, though, if anybody tries to domineer 
it over me; and so I give you notice, master. Nobody shall 
be put over Peg Sliderskew’s head after so many years; you 
know that, and so I needn’t tell you! That won’t do for me 


458 


NICHOLAS klCKLEBY 

— no, no, nor for you. Try that plan, and come to ruin 
ruin — ruin! ” 

“ Oh dear, dear, I shall never try it, not for the world. 
It would be very easy to ruin me; we must be very careful; 
more saving than ever, with another mouth to feed. Only 
we — we mustn’t let her lose her good looks, Peg, because 
I like to see ’em.” 

“ Take care you don’t find good looks come expensive.” 

“ But she can earn money herself, Peg, she can draw, paint, 
work all manner of pretty things for ornamenting stools and 
chairs; slippers, Peg, watch guards, hair chains, and a thou¬ 
sand little dainty trifles that I couldn’t give you half the 
names of. Then she can play the piano (and, what’s more, 
she’s got one), and sing like a little bird. She’ll be very 
cheap to dress and keep, Peg; don’t you think she will? ” 

“ If you don’t let her make a fool of you, she may.” 

“A fool of me! Trust your old master not to be fooled 
by pretty faces, Peg; no, no, no — nor by ugly ones neither, 
Mrs. Sliderskew,” he softly added by way of soliloquy. 

“ You’re a’saying something you don’t want me to hear. 
I know you are.” 

“ Oh dear! The devil’s in this woman,” muttered Arthur, 
adding with an ugly leer, “ I said I trusted everything to 
you, Peg. That was all.” 

“ You do that, master, and all your cares are over.” 

“ When I do that, Peg Sliderskew,” thought Arthur Gride, 
“ they will be.” 

Although he thought this very distinctly, he dared not 
move his lips lest the old woman should detect him. He 
even seemed half-afraid that she might have read his 
thoughts; for he leered coaxingly upon her, as he said aloud: 

“ Take up all loose stitches in the bottle green with the 
best black silk. Have a skein of the best, and some new 
buttons for the coat, and — this is a good idea, Peg, and one 


459 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

you’ll like, I know — as I have never given her anything 
yet, and girls like such attentions, you shall polish up a 
sparkling necklace that I have got upstairs, and I’ll give it 
to her upon the wedding morning — clasp it round her 
charming little neck myself — and take it away again next 
day. He, he, he! I’ll lock it up for her, Peg, and lose it. 
Who’ll be made the fool of there, I wonder, to begin with — 
eh, Peg ? ” 

Mrs. Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this in¬ 
genious scheme and expressed her satisfaction by various 
racking and twitchings of her head and body, which by no 
means enhanced her charms. These she prolonged until 
she had hobbled to the door, when she exchanged them for 
a sour malignant look and, twisting her under jaw from side 
to side, muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs. Gride, 
as she crept slowly down the stairs and paused for breath 
at nearly every one. 

“ She’s half a witch, I think,” said Arthur Gride, when he 
found himself alone again. “ But she’s very frugal, and she’s 
very deaf. Her living costs me next to nothing; and it’s no 
use her listening at the keyholes, for she can’t hear. She’s a 
charming woman — for the purpose; a most discreet old 
housekeeper, and worth her weight in — copper.” 

Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high 
terms, old Arthur went back to the burden of his song. 
The suit destined to grace his approaching nuptials being 
now selected, he replaced the others with no less care than 
he had displayed in drawing them from the musty nooks 
where they had silently reposed for many years. 

Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this 
operation and locked the press; but there was no need for 
any particular hurry, as the discreet Peg seldom knew the 
bell was rung unless she happened to cast her dim eyes up¬ 
ward and to see it shaking against the kitchen ceiling. 


460 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


After a short delay, however, Peg tottered in, followed by 
Newman Noggs. 

“Ah! Mr. Noggs! ” cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his 
hands. “ My good friend, Mr. Noggs, what news do you 
bring for me ? ” 

Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, replied, 
suiting his action to the word, “ A letter. From Mr. Nickleby. 
Bearer waits.” 

“ Won’t you take a — a-” 

Newman looked up and smacked his lips. 

“ A chair? ” 

“ No, thank’ee.” 

Arthur opened the letter, with trembling hands, and 
devoured its contents with the utmost greediness, chuckling 
rapturously over it and reading it several times before he 
could take it from before his eyes. So many times did he 
peruse and re-peruse it that Newman considered it expedient 
to remind him of his presence. 

“Answer; bearer waits/’ 

“True. Yes — yes; I almost forgot; I do declare.” 

“ I thought you were forgetting.” 

“ Quite right to remind me, Mr. Noggs. Oh, very right 
indeed. Yes, I’ll write a line. I’m — I’m rather flurried, 
Mr. Noggs. The news is-” 

“Bad?” 

“ No, Mr. Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best 
of news. Sit down. I’ll get the pen and ink and write a line 
in answer. I’ll not detain you long. I know you’re a treas¬ 
ure to your master, Mr. Noggs. He speaks of you in such 
terms sometimes that — oh dear!—you’d be astonished. 
I may say that I do, too, and always did. I always say the 
same of you.” 

“That’s ‘Curse Mr. Noggs with all my heart! ’ then, if 
you do,” thought Newman, as Gride hurried out. 


461 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully 
about him for an instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity 
to know the result of the design he had overheard from his 
office closet, caught it up and rapidly read as follows: 

Gride. • 

I saw Bray again this morning and proposed the day after 
tomorrow (as you suggested) for the marriage. There is 
no objection on his part, and all days are alike to his 
daughter. We will go together, and you must be with me 
by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punc¬ 
tual. 

Make no further visits to the girl. You have been there 
much oftener than you should. She does not languish for 
you, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your 
youthful ardour for eight-and-forty hours, and leave her 
to the father. You only undo what he does, and does well. 

Yours, 

Ralph Nickleby. 

A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the 
letter on the same spot again, pressed it with his foot to 
prevent its fluttering away, regained his seat in a single 
stride, and looked as vacant and unconscious as ever mortal 
looked. Arthur Gride, after peering nervously about him, 
spied it on the ground, picked it up, and sitting down to 
write, glanced at Newman Noggs, who was staring at the 
wall with an intensity so remarkable that Arthur was quite 
alarmed. 

“ Do you see anything particular, Mr. Noggs?” said 
Arthur, trying to follow the direction of Newman’s eyes — 
which was an impossibility and a thing no man had ever 
done. 

“ Only a cobweb.” 

“ Oh, is that all ? ” 

“ No. There’s a fly in it,” 

“ There are a good many cobwebs here.” 

“ So there are in our place, and flies too.” 


462 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Newman appeared to derive great entertainment from this 
repartee, and to the great discomposure of Arthur Gride’s 
nerves produced a series of sharp cracks from his finger 
joints, resembling the noise of a distant discharge of small 
artillery. Arthur succeeded in finishing his reply to Ralph’s 
note, nevertheless, and at length handed it over to the eccen¬ 
tric messenger for delivery. 

“That’s it, Mr. Noggs.” 

Newman gave a nod, put it in his hat, and was shuffling 
away when Gride, whose doting delight knew no bounds, 
beckoned him back again and said in a shrill whisper and 
with a grin which puckered up his whole face and almost 
obscured his eyes: 

“ Will you — will you take a little drop of something — 
just a taste? ” 

In good fellowship (if Arthur Gride had been capable of 
it) Newman would not have drunk with him one bubble of 
the richest wine that was ever made; but to see what he would 
do and to punish him as much as he could, he accepted the 
offer immediately. 

Arthur Gride, therefore, from a shelf laden with drinking 
glasses and quaint bottles, took down one dusty bottle of 
promising appearance and two glasses of curiously small size. 

“ You never tasted this,” said Arthur. “ It’s eau d’or — 
golden water. I like it on account of its name. It’s a 
delicious name. Water of gold, golden water! 0 dear me, 
it seems quite a sin to drink it! ” 

As his courage appeared to be fast failing him, and he 
trifled with the stopper in a manner which threatened the 
dismissal of the bottle to its old place, Newman took up 
one of the little glasses and clinked it twice and thrice against 
the bottle, as a gentle reminder that he had not been helped 
yet. With a deep sigh, Arthur Gride slowly filled it — 
though not to the brim — and then filled his own. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


463 


“ Stop, stop. Don’t drink it yet,” he said, laying his hand 
on Newman’s; “it was given to me twenty years ago, and 
when I take a little taste, which is ve — ry seldom, I like to 
think of it beforehand and teaze myself. We’ll drink a 
toast. Shall we drink a toast, Mr. Noggs?” 

“Ah! ” said Newman, eyeing his little glass impatiently. 
“ Look sharp. Bearer waits.” 

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you what,” tittered Arthur, “ we’ll 
drink — he, he, he! — we’ll drink a lady.” 

“The ladies?” 

“ No, no, Mr. Noggs, a lady. You wonder to hear me 
say a ‘ lady.’ I know you do, I know you do. Here’s little 
Madeline. That’s the toast, Mr. Noggs, Little Madeline! ” 

“ Madeline,” said Newman, inwardly adding, “ and God 
help her! ” 

The rapidity and unconcern with which Newman dismissed 
his portion of the golden water had a great effect upon the 
old man, who sat upright in his chair and gazed at him open- 
mouthed, as if the sight had taken away his breath. Quite 
unmoved, however, Newman left him to sip his own at 
leisure or to pour it back again into the bottle, if he chose, 
and departed; after greatly outraging the dignity of Peg 
Sliderskew by brushing past her in the passage without a 
word of apology or recognition. 

Mr. Gride and his housekeeper immediately on being left 
alone resolved themselves into a committee of ways and 
means and discussed the arrangements which should be made 
for the reception of the young bride. 

“ You’ve been a long time,” said Ralph when Newman 
returned. 

“ He was a long time,” replied Newman. 

“ Bah! Give me his note, if he gave you one; his message, 
if he didn’t. And don’t go away. I want a word with you, 
sir.” 


464 


NICHOLASNICKLEBY 


Newman handed in the note and looked very virtuous and 
» innocent while his employer broke the seal, and glanced his 
eye over it. 

“ He’ll be sure to come! ” muttered Ralph, as he tore it 
to pieces; “why, of course, I know he’ll be sure to come. 
What need to say that? Noggs! Pray, sir, what man was 
that with whom I saw you in the street last night? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ You had better refresh your memory, sir.” 

“ I tell you that I don’t know. He came here twice and 
asked for you. You were out. He came again. You 
packed him off yourself. He gave the name of Brooker.” 

“ I know he did. What then ? ” 

“ What then? Why, then he lurked about and dogged me 
in the street. He follows me night after night and urges me 
to bring him face to face with you; as he says he has been 
once and not long ago either. He wants to see you face to 
face, he says, and you’ll soon hear him out, he warrants.” 

“ And what said you to that? ” 

“ That it’s no business of mine, and I won’t. I told him 
he might catch you in the street, if that was all he wanted. 
But no. That wouldn’t do. You wouldn’t hear a word there, 
he said. He must have you alone in a room with the door 
locked, where he could speak without fear, and you’d soon 
change your tone and hear him patiently.” 

“ An audacious dog! ” Ralph muttered. 

“ That’s all I know, I say again. I don’t know what man 
he is. I don’t believe he knows himself. You have seen him; 
perhaps you do.” 

“ I think I do.” 

“Well,” retorted Newman, sulkily, “don’t expect me to 
know him, too; that’s all. You’ll ask me, next, why I never 
told you this before. What would you say if I was to tell 
you all the people say of you ? What do you call me when I 
sometimes do ? * Brute, ass! / and snap at me like a dragon.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 465 

This was true enough, though the question which Newman 
anticipated was, in fact, upon Ralph’s lips at the moment. 

He is an idle ruffian,” said Ralph; “ a vagabond from 
beyond the sea where he travelled for his crimes; a felon let 
loose to run his neck into the halter; a swindler who has the 
audacity to try his schemes on me who know him well. The 
next time he tampers with you, hand him over to the police 
for attempting to extort money by lies and threats, — d’ye 
hear ? — and leave the rest to me. — He shall cool his heels in 
jail a little time, and I’ll be bound he looks for other fo lk s to 
fleece when he comes out. You mind what I say, do you? ” 

“ I hear.” 

Do it, then, and I’ll reward you. Now you may go.” 

Newman readily availed himself of the permission, and, 
shutting himself up in his little office, remained there in very 
serious cogitation all day. When he was released at night, 
he proceeded with all the expedition he could use to the 
City, and took up a position to watch for Nicholas. For 
Newman Noggs was proud in his way, and could not bear 
to appear before the Brothers Cheeryble in the shabby and 
degraded state to which he was reduced. 

I^e had not occupied this position many minutes when he 
was rejoiced to see Nicholas approaching, and darted out 
to meet him. Nicholas was no less pleased to encounter his 
friend, whom he had not seen for some time. 

“ I was thinking of you at that moment,” said Nicholas. 

“ That’s right, and I of you. I couldn’t help coming up 
tonight. Isay! I think I’m going to find out something.” 

“ And what may that be? ” returned Nicholas, smiling at 
this odd communication. 

“ I don’t know what it may be, I don’t know what it may 
not be; it’s some secret in which your uncle is concerned, but 
what, I’ve not yet been able to discover, although I have 
my strong suspicions. I’ll not hint ’em now, in case you 
should be disappointed.” 


466 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I disappointed! Am I interested? ” 

“I think you are. I have a notion in my head that it 
must be so. I have found out a man who plainly knows 
more than he cares to tell at once. And he has already 
dropped hints that puzzle me —I say, that puzzle me.” 
Nicholas endeavoured by a series of questions to discover 
the cause, but in vain. Newman could not be drawn into 
any more explicit statement than a repetition of the perplexi¬ 
ties he had already thrown out, and a confused oration, 
showing how it was necessary to use the utmost caution; 
how the lynx-eyed Ralph had already seen him in company 
with his unknown correspondent; and how he had baffled 
the said Ralph by extreme guardedness of manner and in¬ 
genuity of speech. 

“ And that reminds me,” said Newman, “ that you never 
told me the young lady’s real name, whose address we could 
not obtain that time and whom you were so anxious to 
find.” 

“ Madeline! ” 

“Madeline!” cried Newman. “What Madeline? Her 
other name. Say her other name.” 

“Bray,” said Nicholas in great astonishment. 

“ It’s the same! ” cried Newman. “ Sad story! Can you 
stand idly by and let that unnatural marriage take place 
without one attempt to save her? ” 

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicholas, starting up. 
“ Marriage! Are you crazy? ” 

“Are you? Is she? Are you blind, deaf, senseless, 
dead? ” said Newman. “ Do you know that within one day, 
by means of your uncle Ralph, she will be married to a man 
as bad as he, and worse, if worse there is? Do you know 
that, within one day, she will be sacrificed, as sure as you 
stand there alive, to a hoary wretch — a devil born and bred, 
and grey in devil’s ways ? ” 


467 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“Be careful what you say, for heaven’s sake be careful! 
I am left here alone and those who could stretch out a hand 
to rescue her, the Cheeryble Brothers, are far away on busi¬ 
ness. What is it that you mean? ” 

“ I never heard her name,” said Newman, choking with his 
energy. “ Why didn’t you tell me? How was I to know? 
We might, at least, have had some time to think! ” 

“ What is it that you mean? ” cried Nicholas. 

It was not easy to arrive at this information; but after a 
great quantity of extraordinary pantomime, which in no way 
assisted it, Nicholas, who was almost as wild as Newman 
Noggs himself, forced the latter down upon his-seat and 
held him down until he began his tale. 

Rage, astonishment, indignation, and a storm of passions 
rushed through the listener’s heart, as the plot was laid bare. 
He no sooner understood it all than with a face of ashy 
paleness, and trembling in every limb, he darted from the 
place. 

“ Stop him! ” cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit. 
“He’ll be doing something desperate; he’ll murder some¬ 
body. Hallo! there, stop him. Stop thief! stop thief! ” 

Finding that Newman was determined to stop him, 
Nicholas soon slackened his pace and allowed Newman Noggs 
to come up with him: which he did, in so breathless a con¬ 
dition that it seemed impossible he could have held out for a 
minute longer. 

“ I will go straight to Bray’s,” said Nicholas. “ I will see 
this man. If there is a feeling of humanity lingering in his 
breast, a spark of consideration for his own child, motherless 
and friendless as she is, I will awaken it.” 

“ You will not, you will not, indeed.” 

“ Then,” said Nicholas, pressing onward, “ I will act upon 
my first impulse, and go straight to Ralph Nickleby.” 

“ By the time you reach his house he will be in bed.” 


468 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I’ll drag him from it.” 

“ Tut, tut, be yourself.” 

“ You are the best of friends to me, Newman,” rejoined 
Nicholas, after a pause, and taking his hand as he spoke. “ I 
have made head against many trials; but the misery of an¬ 
other, and such misery, is involved in this one that I declare 
to you I am rendered desperate and know not how to act.” 

In truth, it did seem a hopeless case. It was impossible to 
make any use of such intelligence as Newman Noggs had 
gleaned when he lay concealed in the closet. 

“ There seems no ray of hope,” said Nicholas. 

“ The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, for con¬ 
sideration, for thought,” said Newman, pausing at every 
alternate word to look anxiously in his friend’s face. “ Where 
are the brothers ? ” 

“ Both absent on urgent business, as they will be for a 
week to come.” 

“ Is there no way of communicating with them? No way 
of getting one of them here by tomorrow night ? ” 

“ Impossible! The sea is between us and them. With 
the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and return would take 
three days and nights.” 

“ Their nephew,” said Newman, “ their old clerk.” 

“ What could either do that I cannot? ” rejoined Nicholas. 
“ With reference to them especially, I am enjoined to the 
strictest silence on this subject. What right have I to 
betray the confidence reposed in me when nothing but a 
miracle can prevent this sacrifice ? ” 

“ Think,” urged Newman. “ Is there no way? ” 

“ There is none,” said Nicholas, in utter dejection. “ Not 
one. The father urges; the daughter consents. These demons 
have her in their toils; legal right, might, power, money, 
and every influence are on their side. How can I hope to 
save her? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


469 


“Hope to the last! ” said Newman, clapping him on the 
back; “always hope, that’s a dear boy. Never leave off 
hoping; it don’t answer. Do you mind me, Nick? It don’t 
answer. Don’t leave a stone unturned. It’s always some¬ 
thing to know you’ve done the most you could. But don’t 
leave off hoping, or it’s of no use doing anything. Hope, 
hope, to the last! ” 

“ You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit 
by it. One step, at least, I may take — am bound to take 
indeed — and to that I will apply myself tomorrow.” 

“What is that? Not to threaten Ralph? Not to see 
the father?” 

“ To see the daughter, Newman. To do what, after all, 
is the utmost that the brothers could do, if they were here; 
to reason with her upon this hideous union, to point out to 
her all the horrors to which she is hastening; rashly, it may 
be, and without due reflection. To entreat her, at least, to 
pause. She can have no counsellor for her good. Perhaps 
even I may move her so far yet, though it is the eleventh 
hour, and she upon the very brink of ruin.” 

“Bravely spoken! Well done, well done! Yes. Very 
good.” 

“And I do declare,” cried Nicholas, with honest enthusi¬ 
asm, “ that in this effort I am influenced by no selfish or 
personal considerations, but by pity for her and detestation 
and abhorrence of this scheme; and that I would do the 
Same, were there twenty rivals in the field and I the last 
and least favoured of them all.” • 

“You would, I believe. But where are you hurrying 
now ? ” 

“ Homewards. Do you come with me, or shall I say good 
night ? ” 

“ I’ll come a little way, if you will but walk, not run.” 

“I cannot walk tonight, Newman; I must move rapidly, 


470 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


or I could not draw my breath. Fll tell you what I’ve said 
and done tomorrow.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace 
and, plunging into the crowds which thronged the street, was 
quickly lost to view. 

“ He’s a violent youth at times,” said Newman, looking 
after him, “ and yet I like him for it. There’s cause enough 
now, or the deuce is in it. Hope! I said hope, I think! 
Ralph Nickleby and Gride with their heads together! And 
hope for the opposite party! Ho, ho! ” 

It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggs 
concluded this soliloquy; and it was with a very melancholy 
shake of the head and a very rueful countenance that he 
turned about and went plodding on his way. 


CHAPTER XXXV 

N ICHOLAS started at dawn of day from the restless 
couch which no sleep had visited on the previous night 
and prepared to make that last appeal. A hasty breakfast 
taken and such affairs of business that required prompt at¬ 
tention disposed of, he directed his steps to the residence 
of Madeline Bray, whither he lost no time in arriving. 

Coming to the door of the house, he found it had been left 
ajar — probably by the last person who had gone out. The 
occasion was not one upon which to observe the nicest cere¬ 
mony ; therefore, availing himself of this advantage, Nicholas 
walked gently upstairs and knocked at the door of the room 
into which he had been accustomed to be shown. Receiv¬ 
ing permission to enter from some person on the other side, 
he opened the door and walked in. 

Bray and his daughter were sitting there alone. It was 
nearly three weeks since he had last seen her, but there was 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


471 


a change in the lovely girl which told Nicholas how much 
mental suffering had been compressed into that short time. 

The father sat opposite to her, not looking directly in her 
face, but glancing at her as he talked, with a gay air which 
ill disguised the anxiety of his thoughts. The drawing ma¬ 
terials were not on their accustomed table, nor were any of 
the other tokens of her usual occupation to be seen. The 
little vases which Nicholas had always seen filled with fresh 
flowers were empty, or supplied only with a few withered 
stalks and leaves. The bird was silent. The cloth that 
covered his cage at night was not removed. His mistress 
had forgotten him. 

There are times when, the mind being painfully alive to 
receive impressions, a great deal may be noted at a glance. 
This- was one, for Nicholas had but glanced round him when 
he was recognised by Mr. Bray, who said impatiently: 

“ Now, sir, what do you want? Name your errand here, 
quickly, for my daughter and I are busily engaged with more 
important matters than those you come about. Come, sir, 
address yourself to your business at once.” 

Nicholas could very well discern that the irritability and 
impatience of this speech were assumed and that Bray, in 
his heart, was rejoiced at any interruption which promised 
to engage the attention of his daughter. He bent his eyes 
involuntarily upon the father as he spoke and marked his 
uneasiness; for he coloured and turned his head away. 

The device, however, so far as it was a device for causing 
Madeline to interfere, was successful. She rose and, advanc¬ 
ing towards Nicholas, paused half-way and stretched out her 
hand as if expecting a letter. 

“ Madeline,” said her father impatiently, “ my love, what 
are you doing ? ” 

“ Miss Bray expects an inclosure, perhaps. My employer 
is absent from England, or I should have brought a letter 


472 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


with me. I hope she will give me time — a little time. I 
ask a very little time.” 

“ If that is all you come about, sir, you may make yourself 
easy on that head. Madeline, my dear, I didn’t know this 
person was in your debt ? ” 

“ A — a trifle, I believe.” 

“ I suppose you think now,” said Bray, wheeling his chair 
round and confronting Nicholas, “ that but for such pitiful 
sums as you bring here, because my daughter has chosen to 
employ her time as she has, we should starve ? ” 

“ I have not thought about it.” 

“You have not thought about it! You know you have 
thought about it, and have thought that, and think so every 
time you come here. Do you suppose, young man, that I 
don’t know what little purse-proud tradesmen are, when, 
through some fortunate circumstances, they get the upper 
hand for a brief day — or think they get the upper hand 
— of a gentleman ? ” 

“ My business is with the lady.” 

“ With a gentleman’s daughter, sir, and the pettifogging 
spirit is the same. But perhaps you bring orders, eh? Have 
you any fresh orders for my daughter, sir? ” 

Nicholas understood the tone of triumph in which this 
question was put; but remembering the necessity of support¬ 
ing his assumed character, produced a scrap of paper pur¬ 
porting to contain a list of some subjects for drawings which 
his employer desired to have executed and with which he had 
prepared himself in case of any such contingency. 

“ Oh! These are the orders, are they ? ” 

“ Since you insist upon the terms, sir, yes.” 

“ Then you may tell your master,” said Bray, tossing the 
paper back again, with an exulting smile, “ that my daughter, 
Miss Madeline Bray, condescends to employ herself no longer 
in such labours as these; that she is not at his beck and call, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


473 


as he supposes her to be; that we don’t live upon his money, 
as he flatters himself we do; that he may give whatever he 
owes us to the first beggar who passes his shop, or add it to 
his own profits next time he calculates them; and that he 
may go to the devil, for me. That’s my acknowledgment 
of his orders, sir! ” 

“ And this is the independence of a man who sells his 
daughter as he has sold that weeping girl! ” thought Nicholas. 

The father was too much absorbed with his own exultation 
r,o mark the look of scorn which, for an instant, Nicholas 
could not suppress. He continued after a short silence, 
“ You have your message and can retire — unless you have 
any further — ha! ^-any further orders.” 

“ I have none, nor, in consideration of the station you once 
held, have I used that or any other word which could be sup¬ 
posed to imply authority on my part or dependence on yours. 
I have no orders, but I have fears — fears that I will express, 
chafe as you may — fears that you may be consigning that 
young lady to something worse than supporting you by the 
labour of her hands, had she worked herself dead. These are 
my fears, and these fears I found upon your own demeanour. 
Your conscience will tell you, sir, whether I construe it well 
or not.” 

“ For heaven’s sake! ” cried Madeline, interposing in alarm 
between them. “ Remember, sir, he is ill.” 

“ Ill! ” cried the invalid, gasping and catching for breath. 
“ Ill! Ill! I am bearded and bullied by a shopboy, and 
she beseeches him to pity me and remember I am ill! ” 

He fell into a paroxysm of his disorder, so violent that 
for a few moments Nicholas was alarmed for his life; but 
finding that he began to recover, he withdrew, after signifying 
by a gesture to the young lady that he had something im¬ 
portant to communicate and would wait for her outside the 
room. He pould hear that the sick man came gradually but 


474 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

slowly to himself and that, without any reference to what 
had just occurred, as though he had no distinct recollection 
of it, as yet, he requested to be left alone. 

“ You are charged with some commission to me, sir,” said 
Madeline, presenting herself in great agitation. “ Do not 
press it now, I beg and pray you. The day after tomorrow, 
come here then.” 

“ It will be too late — too late for what I have to say, and 
you will not be here. Oh, madam, if you have but one thought 
of him who sent me here, but one last lingering care for your 
own peace of mind and heart, I do, for God’s sake, urge you 
to give me a hearing.” 

She attempted to pass him, but Nicholas gently detained 
her. 

“ A hearing, I ask you but to hear me; not me alone, but 
him for whom I speak, who is far away and does not know 
your danger. In the name of heaven hear me! ” 

The poor attendant with her eyes swollen and red with 
weeping stood near. To her Nicholas appealed in such 
passionate terms that she opened a side door and, supporting 
her mistress into an adjoining room, beckoned Nicholas to 
follow them. 

“ Leave me, please,” said the young lady. 

“ I cannot, will not, leave you. I have a duty to discharge; 
and either here, or in the room from which we have just now 
come, at whatever risk or hazard to Mr. Bray, I must beseech 
you to contemplate again the fearful course to which you have 
been impelled.” 

“ What course is this you speak of, and impelled by whom, 
sir?” demanded the young lady, with an effort to speak 
proudly. 

“ I speak of this marriage; of this marriage, fixed for 
tomorrow, by one who never faltered in a bad purpose or 
lent his aid to any good design; of this marriage, the history 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 475 

of which is known to me better than it is to you. I know 
what web is wound about you. I know what men they are 
from whom these schemes have come. You are betrayed and 
sold for money; for gold whose every coin is rusted with tears, 
if not red with the blood of ruined men.” 

“ You say you have a duty to discharge, and so have I. 
And with the help of heaven I will perform mine,” said 
Madeline firmly. 

“ Say rather with the help of devils, one of them your 

destined husband who-” 

“ I must not hear such talk. This evil, if evil it be, has 
been of my own seeking. I am impelled to this course by 
no one, but follow it of my own free will. You see I am not 
constrained or forced. Report this to my dear friend and 
benefactor, and, taking with you my prayers and thanks for 
him and yourself, leave me for ever! ” 

“ Not until I have besought you with all earnestness to 
postpone this marriage for one short week. Not until- I 
have besought you to think more deeply than you can have 
done, influenced as you are, upon the step you are about to 
take. Although you cannot be fully conscious of the villainy 
of this man to whom you are about to give your hand, some 
of his deeds you know. You have heard him speak and 
have looked upon his face. Reflect, reflect before it is too 
late. Shrink from the loathsome companionship of this 
wretch as you would from corruption and disease. Suffer 
toil and labour if you will, but shun him, shun him, and be 
happy. For believe me, I speak the truth; the most abject 
poverty, the most wretched condition of human life, with a 
pure and upright mind, would be happiness to that which 
you must undergo as the wife of such a man as this! ” 
Long before Nicholas ceased to speak, the young lady 
buried her face in her hands and gave her tears free way. 
In a voice at first inarticulate with emotion, but gradually 


476 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

recovering strength as she proceeded, she answered him: 

“ I will not disguise from you — though perhaps I ought 
— that I have undergone great pain of mind and have been 
nearly broken-hearted since I saw you last. I do not love 
this gentleman. The difference between our ages, tastes, 
and habits forbids it. This he knows, and knowing, still 
offers me his hand. By accepting it and by that step alone, 
I can release my father, who is dying in this place; prolong 
his life, perhaps, for many years. I have passed my word and 
should rejoice, not weep, that it is so. I do. The .interest 
you take in one so friendless and forlorn as I, the delicacy 
with which you have discharged your trust, the faith you 
have kept with me, have my warmest thanks and, while I 
make this last feeble acknowledgment, move me to tears, as 
you see. But I do not repent, nor am I unhappy. I am 
happy in the prospect of all I can achieve, so easily. I shall 
be more so when I look back upon it, and all is done, I know.” 

“ Your tears fall faster as you talk of happiness,” said 
Nicholas, “ and you shun the contemplation of that dark 
future which must be laden with so much misery to you. 
Defer this marriage for a week. For but one week! ” 

“ He was talking, when you came upon us just now, with 
such smiles as I remember to have seen of old, and have not 
seen for many and many a day, of the freedom that was to 
come tomorrow,” said Madeline, with momentary firmness, 
“ of the welcome change, the fresh air, all the new scenes and 
objects that would bring fresh life to his exhausted frame. 
His eye grew bright, and his face lighted at the thought. I 
will not defer it for an hour.” 

“ These are but tricks and wiles to urge you on,” cried 
Nicholas. 

“ Ill hear no more,” said Madeline, hurriedly. “ I have 
heard too much — more than I should — already. What I 
have said to you I have said as to that dear friend to whom 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


477 


I trust in you honourably to repeat it. Sometime in the 
future, when I am more composed and reconciled to my new 
mode of life, if I should live so long, I will write to him. 
Meantime, all holy angels shower blessings on his head and 
prosper and preserve him.” 

She was hurrying past Nicholas, when he threw himself 
before her and emplored her to think but once again upon 
the fate to which she was hastening. 

“ There is no retreat,” said Nicholas, in an agony of sup¬ 
plication, “ no withdrawing! All regret will be unavailing, 
and deep and bitter it must be. What can I say that will 
induce you to pause at this last moment! What can I do 
to save you! ” 

“ Nothing,” she incoherently replied. “ This is the hardest 
trial I have had. Have mercy on me, sir, I beseech, and do 
not pierce my heart with such appeals as these. I — I hear 
him calling. I — I must not, will not, remain here for another 
instant.” 

“ If this were a plot,” said Nicholas, with the same violent 
rapidity with which she spoke, “ a plot, not yet laid bare 
by me, but which with time I might unravel; if you were 
entitled to fortune of your own which would do all that this 
marriage can accomplish, would you not retract ? ” 

“No, no, no! It is impossible. It is a child’s tale. Time 
would bring his death. He is calling again! ” 

“ It may be the last time we shall ever meet on earth,” 
said Nicholas; “ it may be better for me that we should never 
meet more.” 

“ For both, for both,” replied Madeline, not heeding what 
she said. “ The time will come when to recall the memory 
of this one interview might drive me mad. Be sure to tell 
them that you left me calm and happy. And God be with 
you, sir, and my grateful heart and blessing! ” 

She was gone. Nicholas, staggering from the house, 


478 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


thought of the hurried scene which had just closed upon him, 
as if it were some wild, unquiet dream. The day wore on, 
until at night, having been enabled in some measure to collect 
his thoughts, he issued forth again. 

That night, being the last of Arthur Gride’s bachelorship, 
found him in tip-top spirits and great glee. The bottle- 
green suit had been brushed, ready for the morrow. Peg 
Sliderskew had rendered the accounts of her past house¬ 
keeping; the eighteenpence had been rigidly accounted for 
(she was never trusted with a larger sum at once, and the 
accounts were not usually balanced more than twice a day); 
every preparation had been made for the coming festival; 
and Arthur might have sat down and contemplated his ap¬ 
proaching happiness, but that he preferred sitting down and 
contemplating the entries in a dirty old vellum book with rusty 
clasps. 

“ Well-a-day! ” he chuckled, as, sinking on his knees before 
a strong chest screwed down to the floor, he thrust in his 
arm nearly up to the shoulder and slowly drew forth this' 
greasy volume, “ Well-a-day now, this is all my library, but 
it’s one of the most entertaining books that were ever written! 
It’s a delightful book, and all true and real — that’s the best 
of it — true as the Bank of England, and real as its gold and 
silver. Written by Arthur Gride. He, he, he! None of 
your story-book writers will ever make as good a book as this, 
I warrant me. It’s composed for private circulation, for my 
own particular reading, and nobody else’s. He, he, he! ” 

Muttering this soliloquy, Arthur carried his precious 
volume to the table and, adjusting it upon a dusty desk, put 
on his spectacles and began to pore among the leaves. 

“ It’s a large sum to Mr. Nickleby,” he said in a dolorous 
voice. “ Debt to be paid in full, nine hundred and seventy- 
five, four, three. Additional sum as per bond, five hundred. 
One thousand, four hundred and seventy-five pounds, four 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


479 


shillings, and threepence, tomorrow at twelve o’clock. On 
the other side, though, there’s per contra, by means of this 
pretty chick. But, again, there’s the question whether I 
mightn’t have brought all this about, myself. ‘ Faint heart 
never won fair lady.’ Why was my heart so faint? Why 
didn’t I boldly open it to Bray myself and save one thousand 
four hundred and seventy-five, four, three! ” 

These reflections depressed the old usurer so much as to 
wring a feeble groan or two from his breast, and cause him 
to declare, with uplifted hands, that he would die in a work- 
house. Remembering on further cogitation, however, that 
under any circumstances he must have paid, and being by 
no means confident that he would have succeeded had he 
undertaken his enterprise alone, he regained his equanimity, 
and chattered and mowed over more satisfactory items, until 
the entrance of Peg Sliderskew interrupted him. 

“ Aha, Peg! What is it ? What is it now, Peg ? ” 

“ It’s the fowl,” replied Peg, holding up a plate containing 
a little, a very little one; quite a phenomenon of a fowl, so 
very small and skinny. 

“ A beautiful bird! ” said Arthur, after inquiring the price 
and finding it proportionate to the size. “With a rasher 
of ham, and an egg made into sauce, and potatoes, and greens, 
and an apple pudding, Peg, and a little bit of cheese, we shall 
have dinner for an emperor. There’ll only be she and me 
— and you, Peg, when we’ve done.” 

“ Don’t you complain of the expense afterwards,” said Mrs. 
Sliderskew, sulkily. 

“ I’m afraid we must live expensively for the first week,” 
returned Arthur, with a groan, “ and then we must make up 
for it. I won’t eat more than I can help, and I know you 
love your old master too much to eat more than you can 
help, don’t you, Peg ? ” 

“ Don’t I what ? ” 


480 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Love your old master too much-” 

No, not a bit too much.” 

“ Oh dear, I wish the devil had this woman! Love him 
too much to eat more than you can help at his expense. 

“ At his what ? ” 

“ Oh dear! She can never hear the most important words, 
and hears all the others! At his expense — you catamaran! 

The last-mentioned tribute to the charms of Mrs. Slider- 
skew, being uttered in a whisper, that lady assented to the 
general proposition by a harsh growl which was accompanied 
by a ring at the street door. 

“ There’s the bell,” said Arthur. 

“ Ay, ay. I know that.” 

“ Then why don’t you go? ” bawled Arthur. 

“ Go where? I ain’t doing any harm here, am I? ” 

Arthur Gride in reply repeated the word “ Bell ” as loud 
as he could roar; and, his meaning being rendered further 
intelligible to Mrs. Sliderskew’s dull sense of hearing, by 
pantomime expressive of ringing at a street door, Peg 
hobbled out after sharply demanding why he hadn’t said 
there was a ring before instead of talking about all manner 
of things that had nothing to do with it. 

“ There’s a change come over you, Mrs. Peg,” said Arthur, 
following her out with his eyes. “ What it means I don’t 
quite know; but if it lasts, we shan’t agree together long, I 
see. You are turning crazy, I think. If you are, you must 
take yourself off, Mrs. Peg — or be taken off. All’s one to 
me.” Turning over the leaves of his book as he muttered 
this, he soon lighted upon something which attracted his 
attention and forgot Peg Sliderskew and everything else in 
the engrossing interest of its pages. 

The room had no other light than that which it derived from 
a dim and dirt-clogged lamp, whose lazy wick, being still 
further obscured by a dark shade, cast its feeble rays over 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


481 


a very little space and left all beyond in heavy shadow. This 
lamp, the money lender had drawn close to him so that there 
was only room between it and himself for the book over 
which he bent. As he sat, with his elbows on the desk, and 
his sharp cheek bones resting on his hands, the light of this 
lamp only served to bring out his ugly features in strong 
relief, — together with the little table at which he sat, and 
to shroud all the rest of the room in a deep, sullen gloom. 
Raising his eyes and looking vacantly into this gloom as he 
made some mental calculation, Arthur Gride suddenly met 
the fixed gaze of a man. 

“ Thieves! thieves! ” shrieked the usurer, starting up and 
folding his book to his breast. “Robbers! Murder! ” 

“ What is the matter ? ” said the form, advancing. 

“Keep off! ” cried the trembling wretch. “Is it a man 
ora — a-” 

“ For what do you take me, if not for a man? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” cried Arthur Gride, shading his eyes with his 
hand, “ it is a man, and not a spirit. It is a man. Robbers! 
Robbers! ” 

“ For what are these cries raised unless, indeed, you know 
me and have some purpose in your brain ? ” said the stranger, 
coming close up to him. “ I am no thief.” 

“ What then, and how come you here ? ” cried Gride, some¬ 
what reassured, but still retreating from his visitor; “ what 
is your name, and what do you want ? ” 

“My name you need not know; I came here, because I was 
shown the way by your servant. I have addressed you 
twice or thrice, but you were too profoundly engaged with 
your book to hear me, and I have been silently waiting until 
you should be less abstracted. What I want, I will tell you, 
when you can summon up courage enough to hear and 
understand me.” 

Arthur Gride ventured to regard his visitor more atten- 


482 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

tively and, perceiving that he was a yopng man of good mien 
and bearing, returned to his seat, and muttering that there 
were bad characters about, and that this, with former at¬ 
tempts upon his house, had made him nervous, requested his 
visitor to sit down. However, he declined. 

“ Good God! I don’t stand up to have you at an ad¬ 
vantage,” said Nicholas (for Nicholas it was), as he observed 
a gesture of alarm on the part of Gride. “ Listen to me. 
You are to be married tomorrow morning.” 

“ N — n — no. Who said I was? How do you know 
that? ” 

“ No matter how, I know it. The young lady who is to 
give you her hand hates you. Her blood runs cold at the 
mention of your name. The vulture and the lamb, the rat 
and the dove could not be worse matched than you and she. 
You see I know her.” 

Gride looked at him as if he were petrified with astonish¬ 
ment, but did not speak, perhaps lacking the power. 

“ You and another main, Ralph Nickleby by name, have 
hatched this plot between you. You pay him for his share 
in bringing about this sale of Madeline Bray. You do. A 
lie is trembling on your lips, I see.” 

He paused, but, Arthur making no reply, resumed again. 

“ You pay yourself by defrauding her. How or by what 
means — for I scorn to sully her cause by falsehood or deceit 
— I do not know; at present I do not know, but I am not alone 
or single-handed in this business. If the energy of man can 
compass the discovery of your fraud and treachery before 
your death; if wealth, revenge, and just hatred can hunt and 
track you through your windings, you will yet be called to a 
dear account for this. We are on the scent already; judge you, 
who know what we do not, when we shall have you down! ” 

He paused again, and still Arthur Gride glared upon him 
in silence. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


483 


“ If you were a man to whom I could appeal with any 
hope of touching his compassion or humanity, I would urge 
upon you to remember the helplessness, the innocence, the 
youth of this lady; her worth and beauty, her filial excellence, 
and last, and more than all as concerning you more nearly, 
the appeal she has made to your mercy and your manly 
feeling. But I take the only ground that can be taken with 
men like you and ask what money will buy you off. Remem¬ 
ber the danger to which you are exposed. You see I know 
enough to know much more with very little help. Bate some 
expected gain, for the risk you save, and say what is your 
price.” 

Old Arthur Gride moved his lips, but they only formed an 
ugly smile and were motionless again. 

“ You think that the price would not be paid. Miss 
Bray has wealthy friends who would coin their very hearts 
to save her in such a strait as this. Name your price, 
defer these nuptials for but a few days, and see whether 
those I speak of shrink from the payment. Do you hear 
me? ” 

When Nicholas began, Arthur Gride’s impression was that 
Ralph Nickleby had betrayed him; but as he proceeded, he 
felt convinced that, however he had come by the knowledge 
he possessed, the part he acted was a genuine one and that 
with Ralph he had no concern. All he seemed to know for 
certain was that he, Gride, paid Ralph’s debt. As to the 
fraud on Madeline herself his visitor knew so little about 
its nature that it might be a lucky guess. Whether or no, 
he had clearly no key to the mystery and could not hurt 
him who kept it close within his own breast. The allusion 
to friends and the offer of money Gride held to be mere empty 
vapouring, for purposes of delay. “ And even if money were 
to be had,” thought Arthur Gride, as he glanced at Nicholas 
and trembled with passion at his boldness and audacity, 


484 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I’d have that dainty chick for my wife and cheat you of her, 
young smooth face! ” 

As Nicholas went on, he followed him closely with his own 
constructions and, when he ceased to speak, was as well pre¬ 
pared as if he had deliberated for a fortnight. 

“ I hear you,” he cried, starting from his seat, casting back 
the fastenings on the window shutters, and throwing up the 
sash. “ Help here! Help! Help! ” 

“ What are you doing! ” said Nicholas, seizing him by the 
arm. 

“ I’ll cry robbers, thieves, murder, alarm the neighbour¬ 
hood, struggle with you, let loose some blood, and swear you 
came to rob me if you don’t quit my house,” replied Gride, 
drawing in his head with a frightful grin, “ I will! ” 

“ Wretch! ” 

“You’ll bring your threats here, will you?” said Gride, 
whom jealousy of Nicholas and sense of his own triumph had 
converted into a perfect fiend. “ You, the disappointed lover. 
Oh dear! He, he, he! But you shan’t have her, nor she 
you. She’s my wife, my doting little wife. Do you think 
she’ll miss you? Do you think she’ll weep? I shall like 
to see her weep; I shan’t mind it. She looks prettier in 
tears.” 

“ Villain! ” said Nicholas, choking with his rage. 

“ One minute more and I’ll rouse the street with such 
screams that, if they were raised by anybody else, should 
wake me even in the arms of pretty Madeline.” 

“You hound!” said Nicholas. “If you were but a 
younger man-” 

“ Oh yes! ” sneered Arthur Gride, “ if I were but a younger 
man, it wouldn’t be so bad; but for me, so old and ugly! To 
be jilted by little Madeline for me! ” 

“ Hear me,” said Nicholas, “ and be thankful I have enough 
command over myself not to fling you into the street, which 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


485' 


no aid could prevent my doing if I once grappled with you. 
I have been no lover of this lady’s. No contract or engage¬ 
ment, no word of love, has ever passed between us. She 
does not even know my name.” 

“ I’ll ask it for all that. I’ll beg it of her with kisses,” said 
Arthur Gride. “ Yes, and she’ll tell me, and pay them 
back, and we’ll laugh together, and hug ourselves, and be very 
merry, when we think of the poor youth that wanted to have 
her, but couldn’t because she was bespoke by me! ” 

This taunt brought such an expression into the face of 
Nicholas that Arthur Gride plainly apprehended it to be the 
forerunner of his putting his threat of throwing him into the 
street in immediate execution; for he thrust his head out of 
the window and, holding tight on with both hands, raised a 
pretty brisk alarm. Not thinking it necessary to abide the 
issue of the noise, Nicholas gave vent to an indignant defiance 
and stalked from the room and from the house. Arthur Gride 
watched him across the street and then, drawing in his head, 
fastened the window as before, and sat down to take breath. 

“ If she ever turns pettish or ill-humoured, I’ll taunt her 
with that spark; she’ll little think I know about him; and, if 
I manage it well, I can break her spirit by this means and have 
her under my thumb. I’m glad nobody came. I didn’t call 
too loud. The audacity, to enter my house and open upon 
me! But I shall have a very good triumph tomorrow, and 
he’ll be gnawing his fingers off; perhaps drown himself, or 
cut his throat; I shouldn’t wonder! That would make it 
quite complete, that would. Quite.” 

When he had become restored to his usual condition by 
these and other comments on his approaching triumph, 
Arthur Gride put away his book and, having locked the chest 
with great caution, descended into the kitchen to warn Peg 
Sliderskew to bed and scold her for having afforded such 
ready admission to a stranger. 


486 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


The unconscious Peg, however, not being able to compre¬ 
hend the offence of which she had been guilty, he summoned 
her to hold the light, while'he made a tour of the fastenings 
and secured the street door with his own hands. 

“ Top bolt,” muttered Arthur, fastening as he spoke, 
“ bottom bolt, chain, bar, double lock, and key out to put 
under my pillow! So, if any more rejected admirers come, 
they may come through the keyhole. And now I’ll go to sleep 
till half-past five, when I must get up to be married, Peg! ” 
With that, he jocularly tapped Mrs. Sliderskew under the 
chin and appeared for the moment inclined to celebrate the 
close of his bachelor days by imprinting a kiss on her 
shrivelled lips. Thinking better of it, however, he gave her 
chin another tap, in place of that warmer familiarity, and 
stole away to bed. 


CHAPTER XXXYI 

T HERE are not many men who lie abed too late or over¬ 
sleep on their wedding morning. Arthur Gride had 
enrobed himself in his marriage garments of bottle green a 
full hour before Mrs. Sliderskew knocked at his bedroom 
door, and he had hobbled downstairs in full array and 
smacked his lips over a scanty taste of his favourite cordial 
before she entered the kitchen. 

“ Faugh! ” said Peg, grubbing among a scanty heap of 
ashes in the rusty grate. “Wedding, indeed! A precious 
wedding! He wants somebody better than his old Peg to 
take care of him, does he? And what has he said to me 
many and many a time, to keep me content with short food, 
small wages, and little fire ? ‘ My will, Peg! My will! ’ 
says he. ‘I’m a bachelor — no friends — no relations, Peg! ’ 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


487 


Lies! And now he’s to bring home a new mistress, a baby¬ 
faced girl! If he wanted a wife, the fool, why couldn’t he 
have one suitable to his age and that knew his ways? She 
won’t come in my way, he says. Ho, that she won’t; but 
you little think why, Arthur, boy! ” 

While Mrs. Sliderskew was giving loose to these grumblings 
below stairs, Arthur Gride was cogitating in the parlour 
upon what had taken place last night. 

“ I can’t think how he can have picked up what he knows, 
unless I have committed myself — let something drop at 
Bray’s, for instance — which has been overheard. Perhaps 
I may. I shouldn’t be surprised if that was it. Mr. Nickleby 
was often angry at my talking to him before we got outside 
of the door. I mustn’t tell him that part of the business, 
or he’ll put me out of sorts, and make me nervous for the 
day.” 

To Ralph Nickleby’s, Arthur Gride now betook himself 
according to appointment; and to Ralph Nickleby he related 
how, last night, some young blustering blade whom he had 
never seen forced his way into his house and tried to frighten 
him from the proposed nuptials; told him, in short, what 
Nicholas had said and done. 

“ Well, and what then? ” said Ralph. 

“ Oh! nothing more.” 

“ He tried to frighten you, and you were frightened, I 
suppose; is that it? ” 

“ I frightened him by crying thieves and murder. Once I 
was in earnest I tell you that, for I had half a mind to swear 
he uttered threats and demanded my life or my money.” 

“ Oho! ” said Ralph, eyeing him askew. “ Jealous, too! ” 

“ Dear now, see that! ” cried Arthur, rubbing his hands and 
affecting to laugh. 

“Why do you make those grimaces, man? You are 
jealous — and with good cause I think.” 


488 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ No, no, no; not with good cause, hey? You don’t think 
with good cause, do you ? Do you, though, hey ? ” 

“ Why, how stands the fact ? Here is an old man about 
to be forced in marriage upon a girl; and to this old man 
there comes a handsome young fellow — you said he was 
handsome, didn’t you?” 

“No! ” snarled Arthur Gride. 

“Oh! I thought you did. Well! Handsome or not 
handsome, to this old man there comes a young fellow who 
casts all manner of fierce defiances in his teeth — gums I 
should rather say — and tells him in plain terms that his 
mistress hates him. What does he do that for? Philan¬ 
thropy’s sake ? ” 

“ Not for love of the lady, for he said that no word of love 
had ever passed between ’em,” said Arthur. 

“He said!” repeated Ralph, contemptuously. “But I 
like him for one thing, and that is his giving you this fair 
warning to keep your — what is it ? — titbit or dainty chick 
— which? — under lock and key. Be careful, Gride, be 
careful. It’s a triumph, too, to tear her away from a gallant 
young rival, a great triumph for an old man! It only remains 
to keep her safe when you have her — that’s all.” 

“ What a man it is! ” cried Arthur Gride, affecting in the 
extremity of his torture to be highly amused. And then he 
added anxiously, “ Yes, to keep her safe, that’s all. And 
that isn’t much, is it ? ” 

“Much! ” said Ralph, with a sneer. “Why, everybody 
knows what an easy thing to understand and to control women 
are. But come, it’s very nearly time for you to be made 
happy. You’ll pay the bond now, I suppose, to save us 
trouble afterwards.” 

“ Oh, what a man you are! ” croaked Arthur. 

“ Why not? Nobody will pay you interest for the money, 
I suppose, between this and twelve o’clock, will they ? ” 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


489 


“ But nobody would pay you interest for it either, you 
know,” returned Arthur, leering at Ralph with all the cunning 
and slyness he could throw into his face. 

“ Besides which,” said Ralph, letting his lip curl into a smile, 
“ you haven’t the money about you, and you weren’t prepared 
for this, or you’d have brought it with you; and there’s no¬ 
body you’d so much like to accommodate as me. I see. We 
trust each other in about an equal degree. Are you ready ? ” 
Gride, who had done nothing but grin, and nod, and chatter 
during this last speech of Ralph’s, answered in the affirmative 
and, producing from his hat a couple of large white favours, 
pinned one on his breast and with considerable difficulty 
induced his friend to do the like. Then they got into a 
hired coach which Ralph had in waiting and drove to the 
residence of the fair and most wretched bride. 

Gride, whose spirits and courage had gradually failed him 
more and more as they approached nearer and nearer to the 
house, was utterly dismayed and cowed by the mournful 
silence which pervaded it. The face of the poor servant 
girl, the only person they saw, was disfigured with tears and 
want of sleep. There was nobody to receive or welcome them, 
and they stole upstairs into the usual sitting room, more like 
two burglars than the bridegroom and his friend. 

“ One would think,” said Ralph, speaking in spite of him¬ 
self in a low and subdued voice, “ that there was a funeral 
going on here and not a wedding.” 

“ He, he! you are so — so very funny! ” 

“ I need be, for this is rather dull and chilling. Look a 
little brisker, man, and not so hangdog like! ” 

“ Yes, yes, I will, but — but — you don’t think she’s coming 
just yet, do you ? ” 

“ Why, I suppose she’ll not come till she is obliged,” re¬ 
turned Ralph, looking at his watch, “ and she has a good 
half-hour to spare yet. Curb your impatience.” 


490 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ I — I — am not impatient; I wouldn’t be hard with her 
for the world. Oh, dear, dear, not on any account. Let her take 
her time — her own time. Her time shall be ours by all means.” 

While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look, 
which showed that he perfectly understood the reason for 
this great consideration and regard, a footstep was heard 
upon the stairs, and Bray himself came into the room on 
tiptoe, holding up his hand with a cautious gesture as if there 
were some sick person near who must not be disturbed. 

“ Hush! ” he said, in a low voice. “ She was very ill last 
night. I thought she would have broken her heart. She is 
dressed and crying bitterly in her own room; but she’s better 
and quite quiet. That’s everything! ” 

“ She is ready, is she? ” said Ralph. 

“ Quite ready.” 

“ And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses 
— fainting, or so forth? ” said Ralph. 

“ She may be safely trusted now; I have been talking to 
her this morning. Here, come a little this way.” 

He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the room 
and pointed towards Gride, who sat huddled together in a 
corner, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his coat 
and exhibiting a face of which every skulking and base ex¬ 
pression was sharpened and aggravated to the utmost by 
his anxiety and trepidation. 

“ Look at that man,” whispered Bray, emphatically. “ This 
seems a cruel thing, after all.” 

“ What seems a cruel thing ? ” inquired Ralph, with as 
much stolidity of face as if he really were in utter ignorance 
of the other’s meaning. 

“ This marriage. Don’t ask me what. You know as well 
as I do.” 

Ralph shrugged his shoulders in silent deprecation of 
Bray’s impatience. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


491 


“ Look at him. Does it not seem cruel? ” said Bray. 

“ No,” replied Ralph boldly. 

“ I say it does,” retorted Bray, with a show of much irrita¬ 
tion. “ It is a cruel thing, by all that’s bad and treacherous! ” 

“ You see what a dry, shrivelled, withered old chap it is,” 
returned Ralph, when the other was at length silent. “ If 
he were younger, it might be cruel, but as it is — harkee, Mr. 
Bray, he’ll die soon and leave her a rich young widow! Miss 
Madeline consults your taste this time; let her consult her 
own next.” 

“ True, true,” said Bray, biting his nails and plainly very 
ill at ease. “ I couldn’t do anything better for her than advise 
her to accept these proposals, could I? Now I ask you, 
Nickleby, as a man of the world, could I? ” 

“ Surely not. I tell you what, sir; there are a hundred 
fathers within a circuit of five miles from this place — well 
off, good, rich, substantial men — who would gladly give 
their daughters and their own ears with them to that very 
man yonder, ape and mummy as he looks.” 

“ So there are! ” exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at any¬ 
thing which seemed a justification of himself. “And so I 
told her, both last night and today.” 

“ You told her the truth, and did well to do so, though I 
must say at the same time that, if I had a daughter, and my 
freedom, pleasure, nay, my very health and life, depended 
on her taking a husband whom I pointed out, I should hope 
it would not be necessary to advance any other arguments 
to induce her to consent to my wishes.” 

Bray looked at Ralph, as if to see whether he spoke in 
earnest and, having nodded twice or thrice in unqualified 
assent to what had fallen from him, said: 

“ I must go upstairs for a few minutes to finish dressing. 
When I come down, I’ll bring Madeline with me. Do you 
know I had a very strange dream last night which I have not 


492 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


remembered till this instant? I dreamt that it was this 
morning, and you and I had been talking, as we have been 
this minute; that I went upstairs for the very purpose for 
which I am going now; and that as I stretched out my hand 
to take Madeline’s and lead her down, the floor sank with 
me and, after falling from such an indescribable and tre¬ 
mendous height as the imagination scarcely conceives except 
in dreams, I alighted in a grave.” 

“ And you awoke and found you were lying on your back, 
or with your head hanging over the bedside, or suffering some 
pain from indigestion?” said Ralph. “ Pshaw, Mr. Bray! 
Do as I do (you will have the opportunity, now that a 
constant round of pleasure and enjoyment opens upon you) 
and, occupying yourself a little more by day, have no time 
to think of what you dream by night.” 

Ralph followed him, with a steady look, to the door. 
Turning to the bridegroom when they were alone, he said: 

“ Mark my words, Gride, you won’t have to pay his annuity 
very long. You have the devil’s luck in bargains, always. 
If he is not booked to make the long voyage before many 
months are past and gone, I wear an orange for a head! ” 

To this prophecy, so agreeable to his ears, Arthur returned 
no other answer than a cackle of great delight. Ralph, 
throwing himself into a chair, they both sat waiting in pro¬ 
found silence. Ralph was thinking, with a sneer upon his 
lips, of the altered manner of Bray that day, and how soon 
their fellowship in a bad design had lowered his pride and 
established a familiarity between them, when his attentive 
ear caught the rustling of a female dress upon the stairs and 
the footsteps of a man. 

“ Wake up! ” he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon 
the ground, “ and be something like life, man, will you ? 
They are here. Urge those dry old bones of yours this way. 
Quick, man, quick! ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


493 


Gride shambled forward and stood, leering and bowing, 
close by Ralph’s side, when the door opened and there entered 
in haste — not Bray and his daughter, but Nicholas and his 
sister Kate. 

If some tremendous apparition from the world of shadows 
had suddenly presented itself before him, Ralph Nickleby 
could not have been more thunderstricken than he was by 
this surprise. His hands fell powerless by his side; he reeled 
back and with open mouth and a face of ashy paleness stood 
gazing at them in speechless rage. 

“ The man that came to me last night! ” whispered Gride, 
plucking at his elbow. “ The man that came to me last 
night.” 

“ I see,” muttered Ralph. “ I know. I might have guessed 
as much before. Across my every path at every turn; go 
where I will, do what I may, he comes! ” 

As the brother and sister stood side by side, with a gallant 
bearing which became them well, a close likeness between them 
was apparent. The air, carriage, and very look and expres¬ 
sion of the brother were all reflected in the sister, but softened 
and refined to the nicest limit of feminine delicacy and at¬ 
traction. More striking still was some indefinable resem¬ 
blance in the face of Ralph to both. While they had never 
looked more handsome, nor he more ugly; while they had 
never held themselves more proudly, nor he shrunk half so 
low; there never had been a time when the resemblance was 
so perceptible. 

“ Aw r ay! ” was the first word he could utter, as he literally 
gnashed his teeth. “ Away! What brings you here? Liar, 
scoundrel, dastard, thief! ” 

“ I come here,” said Nicholas in a low deep voice, “ to 
save your victim if I can. Liar and scoundrel you are, in 
every action of your life; theft is your trade; and double 
dastard you must be, or you were not here today. Hard 


494 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


words will not move me, nor would hard blows. Here I 
stand, and will till I have done my errand.” 

“ Girl! ” said Rilph, “ retire! We can use force to him, 
but I would not hurt you if I could help it. Retire, you 
weak and silly wench, and leave this dog to be dealt with as 
he deserves.” 

“ I will not retire,” cried Kate, with flashing eyes and the 
red blood mantling in her cheeks. “ You will do him no 
hurt that he will not repay. You may use force with me; 
I think you will, for I am a girl, and that would well become 
you. But if I have a girl’s weakness, I have a woman’s heart, 
and it is not you who in a cause like this can turn that from 
its purpose.” 

“ And what may your purpose be, most lofty lady ? ” said 
Ralph. 

Nicholas replied, “ To offer to the unhappy subject of 
your treachery at this last moment a refuge and a home. 
If the near prospect of such a husband as you have provided 
Will not prevail upon her, I hope she may be moved by the 
prayers and entreaties of one of her own sex. At all events 
they shall be tried. I myself will say to her father that 
the Cheeryble brothers from whom I come and by whom I 
am commissioned will render it an act of greater baseness, 
meanness, and cruelty in him if he still dares to force this 
marriage on. Here I wait to see him and his daughter. 
For this I came and brought my sister even into your presence. 
Our purpose is not to see or speak with you; therefore to 
you we stoop to say no more.” 

“ Indeed! ” said Ralph. “ You persist in remaining here, 
ma’am, do you ? ” 

His niece’s bosom heaved with the indignant excitement 
into which he had lashed her, but she gave him no reply. 

“ Now, Gride, see here,” said Ralph. “ This fellow (I 
grieve to say, my brother’s son; a reprobate and profligate, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


495 


stained with every mean and selfish crime), this fellow, 
coming here today to disturb a solemn ceremony and, know¬ 
ing that the consequence of his presenting himself in another 
man’s house at such a time, and persisting in remaining there, 
must be his being kicked into the streets and dragged through 
them like the vagabond he is — this fellow, mark you, brings 
with him his sister as a protection, thinking we would not 
expose a silly girl to the degradation and indignity which is 
no novelty to him. And even after I have warned her of 
what must ensue, he still keeps her by him, as you see, and 
clings to her apron strings like a cowardly boy to his mother’s. 
Isn’t this a pretty fellow to talk as big as you have heard him 
now ? ” 

“ And as I heard him last night, as I heard him last night, 
when he sneaked into my house, and — he, he, he — very soon 
sneaked out again, when I nearly frightened him to death. 
And he wanting to marry Miss Madeline too! Oh, dear! 
Is there anything else he’d like? Anything else we can do 
for him, besides giving her up ? Would he like his debts paid 
and his house furnished, and a few bank notes for shaving 
paper — if he shaves at all! He, he, he! ” 

“You will remain, girl, will you?” said Ralph, turning 
upon Kate again, “ to be hauled downstairs like a drunken 
drab, as I swear you shall if you stop here? No answer! 
Thank your brother for what follows. Gride, call down 
Bray — and not his daughter. Let them keep her above.” 

“ If you value your head,” said Nicholas, taking up a 
position before the door and speaking in the same low voice 
in which he had spoken before, and with no more outward 
passion than he had before displayed, “ stay where you 
are! ” 

“ Mind me, and not him, and call down Bray,” said Ralph. 

“ Mind yourself rather than either of us, and stay where 
you are! ” said Nicholas. 


496 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Will you call down Bray? ” cried Ralph. 

“ Remember that you come near me at your peril/’ said 
Nicholas. 

Gride hesitated. Ralph, being by this time as furious 
as a baffled tiger, made for the door and, attempting to pass 
Kate, clasped her arm roughly with his hand. Nicholas, 
with his eyes darting fire, seized him by the collar. At that 
moment, a heavy body fell with great violence on the floor 
above and, in an instant afterwards, was heard a most appall¬ 
ing and terrific scream. 

They all stood still, and gazed upon each other. Scream 
succeeded scream. A heavy pattering of feet succeeded, 
and many shrill voices clamouring together were heard to 
cry, “ He is dead! ” 

“ Stand off! ” cried Nicholas, letting loose all the passion 
he had restrained till now, “ if this is what I scarcely dare 
to hope it is, you are caught, villains, in your own toils.” 

He burst from the room and, darting upstairs to the 
quarter from which the noise proceeded, forced his way 
through a crowd of persons who quite filled a small bedroom 
and found Bray lying on the floor quite dead, his daughter 
clinging to the body. 

“ How did this happen?” he cried, looking wildly about 
him. 

Several voices answered together that Mr. Bray had been 
observed through the half-opened door reclining in a strange 
and uneasy position upon a chair; that he had been spoken 
to several times and, not answering, was supposed to be 
asleep, until some person going in and shaking him by the 
arm, he fell heavily to the ground, and. was discovered to be 
dead. 

“ Who is the owner of this house? ” said Nicholas, hastily. 

An elderly woman was pointed out to him; and to her he 
said, as he knelt down and gently unwound Madeline’s arms 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


497 


from the lifeless mass round which they were entwined: “ I 
represent this lady’s nearest friends, as her servant here 
knows, and must remove her from this dreadful scene. This 
is my sister to whose charge you confide her. My name and 
address are upon that card, and you shall receive from me 
all necessary directions for the arrangements that must be 
made. Stand aside, every one of you, and give room and 
air, for God’s sake! ” 

The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had 
just occurred than at the excitement and impetuosity of him 
who spoke. Nicholas, taking the insensible girl in his arms, 
bore her from that apartment downstairs into the room he 
had just left, followed by his sister and the faithful servant, 
whom he charged to procure a coach directly, while he and 
Kate bent over their beautiful charge and endeavoured, but 
in vain, to restore her to animation. The girl performed 
her office with such expedition that in a very few minutes 
the coach was ready. 

Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralysed by the 
awful event which had so suddenly overthrown their schemes, 
and carried away by the extraordinary energy and precipi¬ 
tation of Nicholas, which bore down all before him, looked 
on at these proceedings like men in a dream or trance. It 
was not until every preparation was made for Madeline’s 
immediate removal that Ralph broke silence by declaring 
that she should not be taken away. 

“ Who says so? ” cried Nicholas, rising from his knee and 
confronting them, but still retaining Madeline’s lifeless hand 
in his. 

“ I! ” answered Ralph, hoarsely. 

“ Hush, hush! ” cried the terrified Gride, catching him by 
the arm again. “ Hear what he says.” 

“ Ay! ” said Nicholas, extending his disengaged hand in 
the air, “hear what he says. That both your debts are paid 


498 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

in the one great debt of nature. That the bond, due today 
at twelve, is now waste paper. That your contemplated 
fraud shall be discovered yet. That your schemes are known 
to man, and overthrown by heaven. Wretches, that he 
defies you both to do your worst! ” 

“ This man,” said Ralph, in a voice scarcely intelligible, 
“this man claims his wife, and he shall have her.” 

“ That man claims what is not his, and he should not have 
her if he were fifty men, with fifty more to back him.” 

“ Who shall prevent him ? ” 

“ I will.” 

“ By what right I should like to know, by what right I ask ? ” 
“ By this right. That knowing what I do, you dare not 
tempt me further, and by this better right: that those I serve 
are her nearest and her dearest friends. In their name I take 
her with us. Give w r ay! ” 

“ One word! ” cried Ralph, foaming with rage. 

“ Not one. I will not hear of one — save this. Look to 
yourself, and heed this warning that I give you! Day is 
past in your case, and night is coming on.” 

“ My curse, my bitter, deadly curse, upon you, boy! ” 

“ Whence will curses come at your command ? Or what 
avails a curse or blessing from a man like you? I tell you 
that misfortune and discovery are thickening about your 
head; that the structures you have raised, through all your 
ill-spent life, are crumbling into dust; that your path is 
beset with spies; that this very day ten thousand pounds of 
your hoarded wealth have gone in one great crash! ” 

• “ Tis false! ” cried Ralph, shrinking back. 

“ Tis true, and you shall find it so. I have no more words 
to waste. Stand from the door. Kate, do you go first. Lay 
not a hand on her, or on "that woman, or on me, or so much 
as brush their garments as they pass you by! — You let them 
pass and he blocks the door again! ” 




NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


499 


Arthur Gride happened to be in the doorway, but whether 
intentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent. 
Nicholas swung him away with such violence as to cause him 
to spin round the room until he was caught by a sharp angle 
of the wall and there knocked down. Nicholas then took his 
beautiful burden in his arms and rushed out. No one cared 
to stop him, if any were disposed. Making his way through 
a mob of people, whom a report of the circumstances had at¬ 
tracted round the house, and carrying Madeline in his ex¬ 
citement as easily as if she were an infant, he reached the 
coach in which Kate and the girl were already waiting and, 
confiding his charge to them, jumped up beside the coachman 
and bade him drive away. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 

W ITH clenched hands and teeth ground together, Ralph 
stood for some minutes, breathing heavily, but as 
rigid and motionless as a brazen statue. After a time, he 
began by slow degrees to relax. For a moment he shook his 
clasped fist towards the door by which Nicholas had disap¬ 
peared, and then turned round and confronted the less hardy 
usurer, who had not yet risen from the ground. 

The cowering wretch, who still shook in every limb, tottered 
to his feet as he met Ralph’s eye and, shielding his face with 
both hands, protested, while he crept towards the door, that 
it was no fault of his. 

“ Who said it was, man ? ” returned Ralph, in a sup¬ 
pressed voice. “ Who said it was? ” 

“ You looked as if you thought I was to blame,” said Gride, 
timidly. 

“Pshaw! ” Ralph muttered, forcing a laugh. “I blame 



500 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

him for not living an hour longer. One hour longer would 
have been long enough. I blame no one else.” 

“ N — n — no one else ? ” 

“ Not for this mischance; I have an old score to clear with 
that young fellow who has carried off your mistress; but that 
has nothing to do with his blustering just now, for we should 
soon have been quit of him, but for this cursed accident.” 

There was something so unnatural in the calmness with 
which Ralph Nickleby spoke, something so unnatural and 
ghastly in the contrast between his harsh, slow, steady voice 
and his face’s evidence of intense and violent passion that, 
if the dead body which lay above had stood before the cower¬ 
ing Gride, it could scarcely have terrified him more. 

“ The coach,” said Ralph after a time, during which he 
had struggled like some strong man against a fit. “We came 
in a coach. Is it waiting? ” 

Gride gladly availed himself of the pretext for going to 
the window to see. Ralph, keeping his face steadily the other 
way, muttered in a hoarse whisper: 

“ Ten thousand pounds! He said ten thousand! The 
precise sum paid in but yesterday for the two mortgages, 
and which would have gone out again, at heavy interest, 
tomorrow. If that house has failed, and he the first to bring 
the news! — Is the coach there ? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” said Gride, startled by the fierce tone of the 
inquiry. “It’s here. Dear, dear, what a fiery man you are! ” 

“ Come here,” said Ralph, beckoning to him. “ We 
mustn’t make a show of being disturbed. We’ll go down, 
arm in arm.” 

“ But you pinch me black and blue.” 

Rafph let him go impatiently and, descending the stairs 
with his usual firm and heavy tread, got into the coach. 
Arthur Gride followed. After looking doubtfully at Ralph 
when the man asked where he was to drive and, finding that 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


501 


he remained silent and expressed no wish upon the subject, 
Arthur mentioned his own house, and thither they proceeded. 

On their way, Ralph sat in the farthest corner with folded 
arms and uttered not a word. With his chin sunk on his 
breast, and his downcast eyes quite hidden by the con¬ 
traction of his knotted brows, he might have been asleep 
for any sign of consciousness he gave, until the coach stopped, 
when he raised his head and, glancing through the window, 
inquired what place that was. 

“ My house,” answered the disconsolate Gride, affected 
perhaps by its loneliness. “ Oh dear! My house.” 

“True, I have not observed the way we came. I should 
like a glass of water. You have that in the house, I sup¬ 
pose? ” 

“ You shall have a glass of — of anything you like. It’s 
no use knocking, coachman. Ring the bell! ” 

The man rang, and rang, and rang again, then knocked 
until the street reechoed with the sounds, then listened at the 
keyhole of the door. Nobody came. The house was silent 
as the grave. 

“ How’s this ? ” said Ralph, impatiently. 

“ Peg is so very deaf,” answered Gride, with a look of 
anxiety and alarm. “Oh dear! Ring again, coachman. 
She sees the bell.” 

Again the man rang and knocked, and knocked and rang. 
Some of the neighbours threw up their windows and called 
across the street to each other that old Gride’s housekeeper 
must have dropped down dead. Others collected round the 
coach and gave vent to various surmises; some held that she 
had fallen asleep; some that she had burnt herself to death; 
some that she had got drunk; one very fat man said that she 
had seen something to eat which had frightened her so much 
(not being used to it) that she had fallen into a fit. This 
last suggestion particularly delighted the bystanders, who 


502 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


cheered it uproariously, and were with some difficulty 
deterred from dropping down the area and breaking open 
the kitchen door to ascertain the fact. Nor was this all. 
Rumours having gone abroad that Arthur was to be married 
that morning, very particular inquiries were made after the 
bride, who was held by the majority to be disguised in the 
person of Mr. Ralph Nickleby, which gave rise to much jocose 
indignation at the public appearance of a bride in boots and 
pantaloons, and called forth a great many hoots and groans. 
At length, the two money lenders obtained shelter in a house 
next door and, being accommodated with a ladder, clambered 
over the wall of the back yard— which was not a high one — 
and descended in safety on the other side. 

“ I am almost afraid to go in, I declare/’ said Arthur, 
turning to Ralph when they were alone. “ Suppose she 
should be murdered, lying with her brains knocked out by a 
poker, eh ? ” 

“ Suppose she were. I tell you, I wish such things were 
more common than they are, and more easily done. You may 
stare and shiver. I do! ” 

He applied himself to a pump in the yard and, having taken 
a deep draught of water and flung a quantity on his head and 
face, regained his accustomed manner and led the way into 
the house, Gride following close at his heels. 

It was the same dark place; every room dismal and silent 
as it always was, and every ghostly article of furniture in 
its customary position. 

From cellar to garret went the two usurers, opening every 
creaking door and looking into every deserted room. But 
no Peg was there. At last, they sat down in the apartment 
which Arthur Gride usually inhabited to rest after their 
search. 

“ The hag is out on some preparation for your wedding 
festivities, I suppose,” said Ralph, preparing to depart. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 503 

“See here! I destroy the bond; we shall never need it 
now.” 

Gride, who had been peering narrowly about the room, fell, 
at that moment, upon his knees before a large chest, and 
uttered a terrible yell. 

“ How now? ” said Ralph, looking sternly round. 
“Robbed! Robbed! ” screamed Arthur Gride. 

“ Robbed! Of money ? ” 

“ No, no, no. Worse! far worse! ” 

“ Of what ? ” 

“Worse than money, worse than money! ” cried the old 
man, casting the papers out of the chest, like some beast 
tearing up the earth. “ She had better have stolen money — 
all my money — I haven’t much! She had better have 
made me a beggar than have done this! ” 

“ Done what ? Done what, you devil’s dotard ? ” 

Still Gride made no answer, but tore and scratched among 
the papers, and yelled and screeched like a fiend in torment. 

“ There is something missing, you say,” said Ralph, shaking 
him furiously by the collar. “ What is it ? ” 

“Papers, deeds. I am a ruined man. Lost, lost! I am 
robbed, I am ruined! She saw me reading it — reading 
it of late — I did very often — she watched me, saw me put 
it in the box that fitted into this — the box is gone, she has 
stolen it. Damnation seize her, she has robbed me! ” 

“ Of what! ” cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light ap¬ 
peared to break, for his eyes flashed, and his frame trembled 
with agitation as he clutched Gride by his bony arm. “ Of 
what? ” 

“ She don’t know what it is; she can’t read! ” shrieked 
Gride, not heeding the inquiry. “ There’s only one way in 
which money can be made of it, and that is by taking it to 
her. Somebody will read it for her and tell her what to do. 
She and her accomplice will get money for it and be let off 


504 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


besides. They’ll make a merit of it — say they found it — 
knew it — and be evidence against me. The only person it 
will fall upon is me, me, me! ” 

“ Patience! ” said Ralph, clutching him still tighter and 
eyeing him with a sidelong look, so fixed and eager as suffi¬ 
ciently to denote that he had some hidden purpose in what 
he was about to say. “ Hear reason. She can’t have been 
gone long. I’ll call the police. Do you but give information 
of what she has stolen, and they’ll lay hands upon her, trust 
me. Here! Help! ” 

“ No, no, no,” screamed the old man, putting his hand on 
Ralph’s mouth. “ I can’t, I daren’t.” 

“Help! help! ” cried Ralph. 

“ No, no, no,” shrieked the other, stamping on the ground 
with the energy of a madman. “ I tell you no. I daren’t, 
I daren’t.” 

“ Daren’t make this robbery public ? ” 

“ No! Hush, hush! Not a word of this; not a word must 
be said. I am undone. Whichever way I turn, I am undone. 
I am betrayed. I shall be given up. I shall die in Newgate! ” 

With frantic exclamations such as these and with many 
others in which fear, grief, and rage were strangely blended, 
the panic-stricken wretch gradually subdued his first loud 
outcry until it had softened down into a low despairing moan, 
chequered now and then by a howl, as, going over such papers 
as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss. With 
very little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him, 
and, greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by 
telling them there was nothing the matter, got into the coach 
and was driven to his own home. 

A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there for some time, 
as if he had not the courage to open it, but at length did so 
and turned deadly pale. 

“The worst has happened; the house has failed. I see. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 505 

The rumour was abroad in the City last night and reached 
the ears of those merchants. Well, well! ” 

He strode violently up and down the room and stopped 
again. 

“ Ten thousand pounds! And only lying there for a day 
— for one day! How many anxious years, how many pinch¬ 
ing days and sleepless nights, before I scraped together that 
ten thousand pounds! —Ten thousand pounds.” 

At length, dropping into his elbow chair and grasping its 
sides so firmly that they creaked again, he said: 

“ The time has been when nothing could have moved me 
like the loss of this great sum. But now, I swear, I mix up 
with the loss his triumph in telling it. If he had brought 
it about — I almost feel as if he had — I couldn’t hate him 
more. Let me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, however 
slow — let me but begin to get the better of him, let me but 
turn the scale — and I can bear it.” 

His meditations were long and deep. They terminated 
in his dispatching a letter by Newman, addressed to Mr. 
Squeers at the Saracen’s Head, with instructions to inquire 
whether he had arrived in town and, if so, to wait an answer. 
Newman brought back the information that Mr. Squeers had 
come by mail that morning and had received the letter in 
bed; but that he sent his duty and word that he would get 
up and wait upon Mr. Nickleby directly. 

The interval between the delivery of this message and the 
arrival of Mr. Squeers was very short; but before he came 
Ralph had suppressed every sign of emotion, and once more 
regained the hard, immovable, inflexible manner which was 
habitual to him. 

“ Well, Mr. Squeers,” he said, welcoming that worthy with 
his accustomed smile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful 
frown were part and parcel , 11 how do you do? ” 

“ Why, sir, I’m pretty well. So’s the family, and so’s the 


506 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


boys, except for a sort of rash as is a’running through the 
school, and rather puts them off their feed. But it's a ill 
wind as blows no good to nobody; that’s what I always say 
when them lads has a wisitation. The world is chockful of 
wisitations; and if a boy repines at a wisitation and makes 
you uncomfortable with his noise, he must have his head 
punched. That’s going according to the scripter, that is.” 

“ Mr. Squeers,” said Ralph, drily. 

“ Sir.” 

“ We’ll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you 
please and talk of business.” 

“ With all my heart, sir, and first let me say-” 

“ First let me say, if you please — Noggs! ” 

Newman presented himself when the summons had been 
twice or thrice repeated and asked if his master called. 

“ I did. Go to your dinner. And go at once. Do you 
hear? ” 

“ It an’t time.” 

“ My time is yours, and I say it is.” 

“ You alter it every day; it isn’t fair.” 

“ You don’t keep many cooks, and can easily apologise 
to them for the trouble. Begone, sir! ” 

Ralph not only issued this order in his most peremptory 
manner but, under pretence of fetching some papers from the 
little office, saw it obeyed and, when Newman had left the 
house, chained the door to prevent the possibility of his 
returning secretly, by means of his latchkey. 

“ I have reason to suspect that fellow,” said Ralph, when 
he returned to his own office. “ Therefore until I have 
thought of the shortest and least troublesome way of ruining 
him, I hold it best to keep him at a distance.” 

“ It wouldn’t take much to ruin him, I should think,” said 
Squeers, with a grin. 

“ Perhaps not, nor to ruin a great many people whom I 
know. You were going to say-?” 


507 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“Why, what I was going to say, sir, is that this here 
business regarding of that ungrateful and hard-hearted 
chap, Snawley senior, puts me out of my way, and occa¬ 
sions a inconveniency quite unparalleled; besides, as I may 
say, making, for whole weeks together, Mrs. Squeers a 
perfect widder. It’s a pleasure to me to act with you, of 
course.” 

“ Of course,” said Ralph, drily. 

“ Yes, I say of course, but at the same time when one comes, 
as I do now, better than two hundred and fifty mile to take a 
affer-david, it does put a man out a good deal, letting alone 
the risk.” 

“ And where may the risk be, Mr. Squeers? ” 

“ I said, letting alone the risk,” replied Squeers, evasively. 

“ I ask you where is the risk? ” repeated Ralph, emphati¬ 
cally. 

“Where the risk? Why, it an’t necessary to mention. 
Certain subjects is best awoided. Oh, you know what risk 
I mean.” 

“ How often have I told you and how often am I to tell 
you that you run no risk? What risk do you run? Who 
swears to a lie but Snawley — a man whom I have paid much 
less than I have you ? ” 

“ He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley.” 

“ He did it cheap, yes; and he did it well. Risk! What 
do you mean by risk? The certificates are all genuine. 
Snawley had another son. He has been.married twice; his 
first wife is dead. None but her ghost could tell that she 
didn’t write that letter; none but Snawley himself can tell 
that this is not his son and that his son is food for worms! 
The only perjury is Snawley’s, and I fancy he is pretty well 
used to it. Where’s your risk? ” 

“ Wliy, you know, if you come to that, I might say where’s 
yours ? ” 

“ You might say where’s mine! you may say where’s mine. 


508 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

I don’t appear in the business; neither do you. All Snawley’s 
interest is to stick well to the story he has told; all his risk 
is to depart from it in the least. Talk of your risk in the 
conspiracy! ” 

“ I say,” remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round; 
“ don’t call it that! Just as a favour, don’t.” 

“ Call it what you like, but attend to me. This tale was 
originally fabricated as a means of annoyance against one 
who hurt your trade and half-cudgelled you to death. The 
account is against me, for I spent money to gratify my 
hatred, and you pocket it, and gratify yours at the same time. 
Which is best off? You, who win money and revenge at the 
same time and are sure of money, if not of revenge; or I, 
who am only sure of spending money in any case, and can 
but win bare revenge at last?” 

As Mr. Squeers could only answer this proposition by 
shrugs and smiles, Ralph bade him be silent and thankful 
that he was so well off; and then, fixing his eyes steadily upon 
him, proceeded to say: 

First, that Nicholas had thwarted him in a plan he had 
formed for the disposal in marriage of a certain young lady 
and had secured that lady himself and borne her off in 
triumph. 

Secondly, that by some will or settlement she was entitled 
to property which, if the existence of this deed ever became 
known to her, would make her husband a rich and prosperous 
man. 

Thirdly, that this deed had been, with others, stolen from 
one who had obtained it fraudulently. 

“ Now,” said Ralph, leaning forward, and placing his hand 
on Squeers’s arm, “ hear the design which I have conceived. 
No advantage can be reaped from this deed, whatever it is, 
save by the girl herself or her husband. I want that deed 
brought here that I may give the man who brings it fifty 
pounds in gold and burn it to ashes before his face.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


509 


Mr. Squeers, after following with his eye the action of 
Ralph’s hand towards the fireplace as if he were at that 
moment consuming the paper, drew a long breath, and 
said: 

“ Yes, but who’s to bring it? ” 

“ Nobody, perhaps, for much is to be done before it can 
be got at, but if anybody — you ! ” 

Mr. Squeer’s first tokens of consternation and his flat 
relinquishment of the task would have staggered most men, 
if they had not immediately occasioned an utter abandon¬ 
ment of the proposition. On Ralph they produced not the 
slightest effect. Resuming, when the schoolmaster had quite 
talked himself out of breath, as coolly as if he had never 
been interrupted, Ralph proceeded to expatiate on such 
features of the case as he deemed it most advisable to lay 
the greatest stress on. 

These were the age, decrepitude, and weakness of Mrs. 
Sliderskew; the great improbability of her having any ac¬ 
complice or even acquaintance; the difficulty she would be 
placed in when she began to think on what she had done and 
found herself encumbered with documents of whose nature 
she was utterly ignorant; the comparative ease with which 
somebody might worm himself into her confidence and obtain, 
under one pretence or another, free possession of the deed. 
The residence of Mr. Squeers at a long distance from London 
rendered his association with Mrs. Sliderskew a mere mas¬ 
querading frolic in which nobody was likely to recognise 
him either at the time or afterwards; various comments on 
the uncommon tact and experience of Mr. Squeers, which 
would make his overreaching one old woman a mere matter 
of child’s play and amusement. In addition to these in¬ 
fluences and persuasions, Ralph drew, with his utmost skill 
and power, a vivid picture of the defeat which Nicholas 
would sustain, and finally hinted that the fifty pounds might 
be increased to seventy-five, or even to a hundred. 


510 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

These arguments at length concluded, Mr. Squeers, after 
exhibiting many signs of restlessness and indecision, asked 
whether Ralph couldn’t go another fifty; then said he sup¬ 
posed he must try to do the most he could for a friend, which 
was always his maxim, and therefore he undertook the job. 

“ But how are you to get at the woman? That’s what 
it is as puzzles me.” 

“ I may not get at her at all,” replied Ralph, “ but 111 try. 
I have hunted people in this city before now who have been 
better hid than she; and I know quarters in which a guinea 
or two, carefully spent, will often solve darker riddles than 
this. Ay, and keep them close, too, if need be! I hear my 
man ringing at the door. We may as well part. You had 
better not come to and fro, but wait till you hear from me. 

“ Good! I say, if you shouldn’t find her out, you’ll pay 
expenses at the Saracen and something for loss of time?” 

“ Well, yes! You have nothing more to say? ” 

Squeers shaking his head, Ralph accompanied him to the 
street door and returned to his own room. 

“ Now! Come what may, for the present I am firm and 
unshaken. Let me but defeat him in this one hope, dear to 
his heart as I know it must be; let me but do this; and it 
shall be the first link in such a chain which I will wind about 
him, as never man forged yet.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 

I T was a dark, wet, gloomy night in autumn. In an upper 
room of a mean house situated in an obscure street, there 
sat, all alone, a one-eyed man in a loose greatcoat, with arms 
half as long again as his own and a breadth and length which 
would have admitted of his winding himself in it, head and 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 511 

all, with the utmost ease, and without any risk of straining 
the old and greasy material of which it was composed. 

So attired, and in a place so far removed from his usual 
haunts and occupations, and so very poor and wretched in 
its character, perhaps Mrs. Squeers herself would have had 
some difficulty in recognising her lord. But Mrs. Squeers’s 
lord it was. And in a tolerably disconsolate mood Mrs. 
Squeers’s lord appeared to be, as he helped himself from a 
black bottle which stood on the table beside him. 

There were no attractions in the room over which the 
glance of Mr. Squeers so discontentedly wandered, or in the 
narrow street into which it might have penetrated, if he had 
thought fit to approach the window. The attic chamber 
in which he sat was bare and mean; the bedstead, and such 
few other articles of necessary furniture as it contained, 
were in a most crazy state, and of a most uninviting appear¬ 
ance. The street was muddy, dirty, and deserted. Having 
but one outlet, it was traversed by few save the inhabitants 
at any time; and the night being one of those on which most 
people are glad to be within doors, it now presented no other 
signs of life than the dull glimmering of poor candles from the 
dirty windows, and few sounds but the pattering of the rain, 
and occasionally the heavy closing of some creaking door. 
Mr. Squeers continued to look disconsolately about him and 
to listen to these noises in profound silence, broken only by 
the rust lin g of his large coat, as he now and then moved 
his arm to raise his glass to his lips. Mr. Squeers continued 
to do this for some time, until the increasing gloom warned 
him to snuff the candle. Seeming to be slightly roused by 
this exertion, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and, fixing them 
upon some uncouth and fantastic figures traced upon it by 
the wet and damp which had penetrated through the roof, 
broke into the following soliloquy: 

(e Well, this is a pretty go, is here! An uncommon pretty 


512 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


go! Here have I been, a matter of how many weeks — hard 
upon six — a’f offering up this here blessed old dowager petty 
larcenerer ” — Mr. Squeers delivered himself of this epithet 
with great difficulty and effort — “ and Dotheboys Hall 
a’running itself regularly to seed the while! That’s the 
worst of ever being in with a owdacious chap like that old 
Nickleby. You never know when he’s done with you; and if 
you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound.” 

This remark, perhaps, reminded Mr. Squeers that he was 
in for a hundred pound at any rate. His countenance re¬ 
laxed, and he raised his glass to his mouth with an air of 
greater enjoyment of its contents than he had before evinced. 

“ I never see, I never see nor come across such a file as 
that old Nickleby. Never! He’s out of everybody’s depth, 
he is. He’s what you may call a rasper, is Nickleby. To 
see how sly and cunning he grubbed on, day after day, 
a’worming and plodding and tracing and turning and twining 
of hisself about, till he found out where this precious Mrs. 
Peg was hid, and cleared the ground for me to work upon. 
Creeping and crawling and gliding, like an ugly old bright¬ 
eyed stagnation-blooded adder! Ah! He’d have made a 
good un in our line, but it would have been too limited for 
him; his genius would have busted all bonds and, coming over 
every obstacle, broke down all before it, till it erected itself 
into a monneyment of — well, I’ll think of the rest, and 
say it when conwenient.” 

Making a halt in his reflections at this place, Mr. Squeers 
again put his glass to his lips and, drawing a dirty letter 
from his pocket, proceeded to con over its contents with th$ 
air of a man who had read it very often and who now refreshed 
his memory rather in the absence of better amusement than 
for any specific information. 

“ The pigs is well, the cows is well, and the boys is bobbish. 
Young Sprouter has been a’winking, has he? I’ll wink him 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


513 


when I get back. ‘ Cobbev would persist in sniffing while 
he was a’eating his dinner and said that the beef was so 
strong it made him ’ — Very good, Cobbey, we’ll see if we 
can’t make you sniff a little without beef. ‘ Pitcher was 
took with anpther fever,’ — of course, he was — ‘ and being 
fetched by his friends, died the day after he got home ’ — 
of course he did, and out of aggravation; it’s part of a deep- 
laid system. There an’t another chap in the school but that 
boy as would have died exactly at the end of the quarter, 
taking it out of me to the. very last, and then carrying his 
spite to the utmost extremity. ' The juniorest Palmer said 
he wished he was in heaven.’ I really don’t know, I do not 
know what’s to be done with that young fellow; he’s always 
a’wishing something horrid. He said once he wished he was 
a donkey, because then he wouldn’t have a father as didn’t 
love him! Pretty wicious that for a child of six! ” 

Mr. Squeers was so much moved by the contemplation of 
this hardened nature in one so young that he angrily put 
up the letter and sought, in a new train of ideas, a subject of 
consolation. 

“ It’s a long time to have been a’lingering in London, and 
this is a precious hole to come and live in, even if it has been 
only for a week or so. Still, one hundred pound is five boys, 
and five boys takes a whole year to pay one hundred pound, 
and there’s their keep to be subtracted. There’s nothing lost, 
neither, by one’s being here, because the boys’ money comes 
in just the same as if I was at home, and Mrs. Squeers she 
keeps them in order. There’ll be some lost time to make up, 
of course. There’ll be an arrear of flogging as’ll have to be 
gone through; still, a couple of days makes that all right, and 
one don’t mind a little extra work for one hundred pound. 
It’s pretty nigh the time to wait upon the old woman. From 
what she said last night, I suspect that, if I’m to succeed at 
all, I shall succeed tonight ; so I’ll have half a glass more, to 


514 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

wish myself success and put myself in spirits. Mrs. Squeers, 
my dear, your health! ” 

Leering with his one eye as if the lady to whom he drank 
had been actually present, Mr. Squeers — in his enthusiasm, 
no doubt — poured out a full glass and emptied it; and as 
the liquor was raw spirits and he had applied himself to the 
same bottle more than once already, it is not surprising that 
he found himself by this time in an extremely cheerful state, 
and quite enough excited for his purpose. 

What this purpose was soon appeared. After a few turns 
about the room to steady himself, he took the bottle under 
his arm and the glass in his hand and, blowing out the candle 
as if he purposed being gone some time, stole out upon the 
staircase and, creeping softly to the door opposite his own, 
tapped gently at it. 

“But what’s the use of tapping? She’ll never hear. I 
suppose she isn’t doing anything very particular; and if she 
is, it don’t matter, that I see.” 

With this brief preface, Mr. Squeers applied his hand to 
the latch of the door and, thrusting his head into a garret far 
more deplorable than that he had just left, and, seeing that 
there was nobody there but an old woman who was bending 
over a wretched fire, walked in and tapped her on the 
shoulder. 

“Well, my Slider! ” said Mr. Squeers, jocularly. 

“Is that you? ” inquired Peg. 

“ Ahf It’s me.” 

Mr. Squeers drew a stool to the fire and, placing himself 
near her, and the bottle and glass on the floor between them, 
roared out again very loud. 

“ Well, my Slider! ” 

“ I hear you,” said Peg, receiving him very graciously. 

“ I’ve come according to promise,” roared Squeers. 

“ So they used to say in that part of the country I come 
from,” observed Peg, complacently, “ but I think oil’s better.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 515 

“ Better than what ? ” roared Squeers, adding some rather 
strong language in an undertone. 

“ No,” said Peg, “ of course not.” 

“ I never saw such a monster as you are! ” muttered 
Squeers looking as amiable as he possibly could the while; 
for Peg’s eye was upon him, and she was chuckling fearfully, 
as though in delight at having made a choice repartee. “ Do 
you see this? This is a bottle.” 

“ I see it.” 

“ Well, and do you see this? ” bawled Squeers. “ This is 
a glass! ” Peg saw that, too. 

“ See here, then,” said Squeers, accompanying his remarks 
with appropriate action, “ I fill the glass from the bottle, and 
I say * your health, Slider,’ and I empty it; then I raise it 
genteelly with a little drop, which I’m forced to throw into 
the fire — hallo! we shall have the chimbley alight next — 
fill it again, and hand it over to you.” 

“ Your health,” said Peg. 

“ She understands that, anyways,” muttered Squeers, 
watching Mrs. Sliderskew as she dispatched her portion and 
choked and gasped in a most awful manner after so doing; 
“now then, let’s have a talk. How’s the rheumatics?” 

Mrs. Sliderskew, with much blinking and chuckling and 
with looks expressive of her strong admiration of Mr. Squeers, 
his person, manner, and conversation, replied that the rheu¬ 
matics were better. 

“ What’s the reason,” said Mr. Squeers, deriving fresh 
facetiousness from the bottle; “what’s the reason of rheu¬ 
matics? What do they mean? What do people have ’em 
for —eh?” 

Mrs. Sliderskew didn’t know, but suggested that it was 
possibly because they couldn’t help it. 

“ Measles, rheumatics, whooping cough, fevers, agers, and 
lumbagers,” said Mr. Squeers, “is all philosophy together; 
that’s what it is. The heavenly bodies is philosophy, and the 


516 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


earthly bodies is philosophy. If there’s a screw loose in a 
heavenly body, that’s philosophy, and if there’s a screw 
loose in a earthly body, that’s philosophy too. If a parent 
asks a question in the classical, commercial, or mathematical 
line, says I, gravely, 1 Why, sir, in the first place, are you a 
philosopher? ’ — ' No, Mr. Squeers,’ he says, ‘ I an’t.’ 1 Then, 
sir,’ says I, 1 I am sorry for you, for I shan’t be able to explain 
it.’ Naturally, the parent goes away and wishes he was a 
philosopher, and, equally naturally, thinks I’m one.” 

Saying this, and a great deal more, with tipsy profundity 
and a serio-comic air, and keeping his eye all the time on 
Mrs. Sliderskew, who was unable to hear one word, Mr. 
Squeers concluded by helping himself and passing the bottle. 
To which Peg did becoming reverence. 

“ That’s the time of day! ” said Mr. Squeers. “ You look 
twenty pound ten better than you did.” 

Again Mrs. Sliderskew chuckled, but modesty forbade her 
assenting verbally to the compliment. 

“ Twenty pound ten better,” repeated Mr. Squeers, “ than 
you did that day when I first introduced myself. Don’t you 
know? ” 

“ Ah,” said Peg, shaking her head, “ but you frightened me 
that day.” 

“ Did I? Well, it was rather a startling thing for a 
stranger to come and recommend himself by saying that he 
knew all about you, and what your name was, and why you 
were living so quiet here, and what you had boned, and who 
you boned it from, wasn’t it ? ” 

Peg nodded her head in strong assent. 

“ But I know everything that happens in that way, you 
see; nothing takes place of that kind that I an’t up to entirely. 
I’m a sort of a lawyer, Slider, of first-rate standing and under¬ 
standing. I’m the intimate friend and confidential adwiser 
of pretty nigh every man, woman, and child that gets them- 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 517 

selves into difficulties by being too nimble with their fingers. 
I’m-” 

Mr. Squeers’s catalogue of his own merits and accomplish¬ 
ments, which was partly the result of a concerted plan between 
himself and Ralph Nickleby, and flowed, in part, from the 
black bottle, was here interrupted by Mrs. Sliderskew. 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” she cried, folding her arms and wagging her 
head; “ and so he wasn’t married after all, was he? Not 
married after all ? ” 

“ No, that he wasn’t! ” 

“ And a young lover come and carried off the bride, eh ? ” 

“ From under his very nose, and I’m told the young chap 
cut up rough besides, and broke the winders, and forced him 
to swaller his wedding favour. Which nearly choked him.” 

“ Tell me all about it again,” cried Peg, with a malicious 
relish of her old master’s defeat, which made her natural 
hideousness something quite fearful; “ let’s hear it all again, 
beginning at the beginning now, as if you’d never told me. 
Let’s have it every word — now — now — beginning at the 
very first, you know, when he went to the house that 
morning! ” 

Mr. Squeers, plying Mrs. Sliderskew freely with the liquor 
and sustaining himself under the exertion of speaking so loud 
by frequent application to it himself, complied with this 
request by describing the discomfiture of Arthur Gride, with 
such improvements on the truth as happened to occur to 
him and the ingenious invention and application of which 
had been very instrumental in recommending him to her 
notice in the beginning of their acquaintance. Mrs. Slider¬ 
skew was in an ecstasy of delight, rolling her head about, 
drawing up her skinny shoulders, and wrinkling her cadaver¬ 
ous face into so many and such complicated forms of ugliness, 
that she awakened the unbounded astonishment and disgust 
even of Mr. Squeers. 


518 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ He’s a treacherous old goat,” said Peg, “ and cozened me 
with cunning tricks and lying promises; but never mind 
I’m even with him. I’m even with him.” 

“ More than even, Slider; you’d have been even with him 
if he’d got married; but with the disappointment besides, 
you’re a long way ahead. Out of sight, Slider, quite out of 
sight. And that reminds me,” he added, handing her the 
glass, “ if you want me to give you my opinion of them deeds, 
and tell you what you’d better keep and what you’d better 
burn, why now’s your time, Slider.” 

“There an’t no hurry for that,” said Peg, with several 
knowing looks and winks. 

“ Oh, very well! it don’t matter to me. You asked me, you 
know. I shouldn’t charge you nothing, being a friend. 
You’re the best judge, of course. But you’re a bold woman, 
Slider.” 

“ How do you mean, bold ? ” 

“ Why, I only mean that if it was me, I wouldn’t keep 
papers as might hang me littering about when they might be 
turned into money — them as wasn’t useful made away with, 
and them as was, laid by somewheres, safe; that’s all; but 
everybody’s the best judge of their own affairs. All I say is, 
Slider, I wouldn’t do it.” 

“ Come,” said Peg, “ then you shall see ’em.” 

“ I don’t want to see ’em,” replied Squeers, affecting to be 
out of humour, “ don’t talk as if it was a treat. Show ’em to 
somebody else, and take their advice.” Mr. Squeers would, 
very likely, have carried on the farce of being offended a 
little longer, if Mrs. Sliderskew in her anxiety to restore 
herself to her former high position in his good graces had not 
become so extremely affectionate that he stood at some risk 
of being smothered by her caresses. Repressing with as 
good a grace as possible these little familiarities — for which, 
there is reason to believe, the black bottle was at least as 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


519 


much to blame as any constitutional infirmity on the part 
of Mrs. Sliderskew — he protested that he had only been 
joking and, in proof of his unimpaired good humour, that he 
was ready to examine the deeds at once, if by so doing he 
could afford any satisfaction or relief of mind to his fair 
friend. 

“ And now you’re up, my Slider,” bawled Squeers, as she 
rose to fetch them, “ bolt the door.” 

Peg trotted to the door and, after fumbling at the bolt, 
crept to the other end of the room, and from beneath the 
coals which filled the bottom of the cupboard, drew forth a 
small deal box. Having placed this on the floor at Squeers’s 
feet, she brought from under the pillow of her bed a small 
key, with which she signed to that gentleman to open it. 
Mr. Squeers, who had eagerly followed her every motion, 
lost no time in obeying this hint and, throwing back the lid, 
gazed with rapture on the documents within. 

“ Now, you see,” said Peg, kneeling down on the floor beside 
him, and staying his impatient hand; “ what’s of no use, 
we’ll burn; what we can get any money by, we’ll keep; and 
if there’s any we could get him into trouble by, and fret and 
waste away his heart to shreds with, those we’ll take par¬ 
ticular care of; for that’s what I want to do, and what I 
hoped to do when I left him.” 

“ I thought that you didn’t bear him any particular good 
will. But, I say! Why didn’t you take some money 
besides ? ” 

“ Some what ? ” 

“ Some money,” roared Squeers. “ I do believe the woman 
hears me, and wants to make me break a wessel, so that she 
may have the pleasure of nursing me. Some money, Slider, 
money! ” 

“ Why, what a man you are to ask! ” cried Peg, with some 
contempt. “ If I had taken money from Arthur Gride, he’d 


520 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


have scoured the whole earth to find me — aye, and he’d 
have smelt it out, and raked it up somehow if I had buried 
it at the bottom of the deepest well in England. No, no! I 
knew better than that. I took what I thought his secrets 
were hid in. Them he couldn’t afford to make public, let 
’em be worth ever so much money. He’s an old dog; a sly, 
old, cunning, thankless dog! He first starved and then 
tricked me; and if I could, I’d kill him.” 

“ All right, and very laudable, but, first and foremost, 
Slider, burn the box. You should never keep things as may 
lead to discovery. Always mind that. So while you pull 
it to pieces (which you can easily do, for it’s very old and 
rickety) and burn it in little bits, I’ll look over the papers 
and tell you what they are.” 

Peg expressing her acquiescence in the arrangement, 
Mr. Squeers turned the box bottom upward and, tumbling 
the contents upon the floor, handed it to her, the destruction 
of the box being an extemporary device for engaging her 
attention, in case it should prove desirable to distract it from 
his own proceedings. 

“ There! You poke the pieces between the bars and make 
up a good fire, and I’ll read the while. Let me see, let me 
see.” And taking the candle down beside him, Mr. Squeers, 
with great eagerness and a cunning grin overspreading his 
face, entered upon his task of examination. 

If the old woman had not been very deaf, she must have 
heard, when she last went to the door, the breathing of two 
persons close behind it. If those two persons had been un¬ 
acquainted with her infirmity, they would probably have 
chosen that moment either for presenting themselves or 
taking to flight. But knowing with whom they had to deal, 
they remained quite still, and now, not only appeared un¬ 
observed at the door — which was not bolted, for the bolt 
had no hasp — but warily and with noiseless footsteps, ad¬ 
vanced into the room. 


521 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

They stole farther and farther in by slight and scarcely 
perceptible degrees, with such caution that they scarcely 
seemed to breathe. The old hag and Squeers, little dreaming 
of any such invasion, and utterly unconscious of there being 
any soul near but themselves, were busily occupied with 
their tasks. The old woman, with her wrinkled face close to 
the bars of the stove, was puffing at the dull embers which 
had not yet caught the wood. Squeers was stooping down to 
the candle, which brought out the full ugliness of his face, as 
the light of the fire did that of his companion. Both were 
intently engaged, wearing faces of exultation which con¬ 
trasted strongly with the anxious looks of those intruders 
behind, who took advantage of the slightest sound to oover 
their advances, and almost before they had moved an inch 
forward and all was silent, stopped again. 

Of the stealthy comers, Frank Cheeryble was one and 
Newman Noggs the other. Newman had caught up by the 
rusty nozzle an old pair of bellows, which were just under¬ 
going a flourish in the air preparatory to a descent upon the 
head of Mr. Squeers, when Frank with an earnest gesture 
stayed his arm and, taking another step in advance, came so 
close behind the schoolmaster that, by leaning slightly for¬ 
ward, he could plainly distinguish the writing which he held 
up to his eye. 

Mr. Squeers, not being remarkably learned, appeared to be 
considerably puzzled by the first prize, which was in an en¬ 
grossing hand 1 and not very legible except to a practised 
eye. Having tried it by reading from left to right, and from 
right to left, and finding it equally clear both ways, he 
turned it upside down with no better success. 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” chuckled Peg, who, on her knees before the 
fire, was feeding it with fragments of the box and grinning 
in most devilish exultation. “ What’s that writing about, 
eh?” 

1 A special form of handwriting formerly used in legal documents. 


522 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Nothing particular,” replied Squeers, tossing it towards 
her. “ It’s only an old lease, as well as I can make out. 
Throw it in the fire.” 

Mrs. Sliderskew complied, and inquired what the next one 
was. 

“ This is a bundle of overdue acceptances and re¬ 
newed bills of six or eight young gentlemen; but they’re all 
M. P.’s, 1 so it is of no use to anybody. Throw it in the 
fire! ” 

Peg did as she was bidden, and waited for the next. 

“ This seems to be some deed of sale. Take care of that, 
Slider, literally for God’s sake. It’ll fetch its price at the 
auction mart.” 

“ What’s the next? ” inquired Peg. 

“ Why, this seems, from the two letters that’s with it, to 
be a bond from a curate down in the country, to pay half 
a year’s wages of forty pound for borrowing twenty. Take 
care of that; for if he don’t pay it, his bishop will very soon 
be down upon him. It’s very odd; I don’t see anything like 
it yet.” 

“ What’s the matter? ” said Peg. 

“ Nothing, only I’m looking for-” 

Newman raised his bellows again. Once again Frank, by 
a rapid motion of his arm unaccompanied by any noise, 
checked him in his purpose. 

“ Here you are,” said Squeers, “ bonds — take care of 
them. Warrant of attorney — take care of that. Two 
cognovits — take care of them. Lease and release — burn 
that. Ah! ‘ Madeline Bray — come of age or marry — 
the said Madeline ’ — here, burn that! ” 

Eagerly throwing towards the old woman a parchment that 
he caught up for the purpose, Squeers, as she turned her 
head, thrust into the breast of his large coat the deed in which 
. J Members of Parliament. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBA 523 

these words had caught his eye and burst into a shout of 
triumph. 

“I’ve got it! I've got it! Hurrah! The plan was a 
good one, though the chance was desperate, and the day’s our 
own at last! ” 

Peg demanded what he laughed at, but no answer was 
returned. Newman’s arm could no longer be restrained. 
The bellows, descending heavily and with unerring aim on the 
very centre of Mr. Squeers’s head, felled him to the floor, 
and stretched him on it flat and senseless. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 

T HE sudden and terrible shock she had received, com¬ 
bined with the great affliction and anxiety of mind 
which she had for a long time endured, proved too much 
for Madeline Bray’s strength. She was ill for a long time 
at the home of the Nicklebys. Recovering from the state of 
stupefaction into which the sudden death of her father 
plunged her, she only exchanged that condition for one of 
dangerous and active illness. But she had every care that 
could possibly be given, for Kate Nickleby took all the 
responsibility of the sick room. 

Who, slowly recovering from any illness, could be in¬ 
sensible to the attentions of such a nurse as gentle, tender, 
earnest Kate? Her sweet voice, light step, delicate hand, 
her quiet cheerful discharge of little offices of kindness made 
a deep impression on Madeline’s young heart, stored with 
every pure and true affection that women cherish, but almost 
a stranger to the endearments and devotion of its own sex. 
She was rendered by calamity and suffering keenly sus¬ 
ceptible to the sympathy so long unknown and so long sought 


524 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

in vain! What wonder that days became as years in knitting 
them together! 

“ My dear/’ Mrs. Nickleby would say, coming into the room 
with an elaborate caution, calculated to discompose the nerves 
of an invalid more than the entry of a horse soldier at full 
gallop; “ how do you find yourself tonight? I hope you are 
better?” 

“ Almost well, mama,” Kate would reply, laying down 
her work and taking Madeline’s hand in hers. 

“Kate! ” Mrs. Nickleby would say, reprovingly, “don’t 
talk so loud.” (The worthy lady herself talking in a whisper 
that would have made the blood of the stoutest man run cold 
in his veins.) 

Kate would take this reproof very quietly, and Mrs. 
Nickleby, making every board creak and every thread rustle 
as she moved stealthily about, would add: 

“ My son Nicholas has just come home, and I have come, 
according to custom, my dear, to know, from your own lips, 
exactly how you are; for he won’t take my account, and 
never will.” 

“ He is later than usual tonight,” perhaps Madeline would 
reply. “ Nearly half an hour.” 

“ Well, I never saw such people in all my life as you are, 
for time, up here! I declare I never did! I had not the 
least idea that Nicholas was after his time, not the smallest. 
Mr. Nickleby used to say — your poor papa, I am speaking 
of, Kate, my dear — used to say that appetite was the best 
clock in the world, but you have no appetite, my dear Miss 
Bray, I wish you had, upon my word I really think you 
ought to take something that would give you one. I am 
sure I don’t know, but I have heard that two or three dozen 
native lobsters give an appetite, though that comes to the 
same thing after all, for I suppose you must have an appe¬ 
tite before you can take ’em. If I said lobsters, I meant 


525 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

oysters; it’s all the same. Though really how you came 
to know about Nicholas-” 

“We happened to be just talking about him, mama — that 
was it.” 

“ You never seem to be talking about anything else, Kate, 
and upon my word I am quite surprised at your being so very 
thoughtless. You can find subjects enough to talk about, 
sometimes, and when you know how important it is to keep 
up Miss Bray’s spirits, and interest her, and all that, it 
really is quite extraordinary to me what can induce you to 
keep on prose, prose, prose, din, din, din, everlastingly upon 
the same theme. You are a very kind nurse, Kate, and a 
very good one, and I know you mean very well; but I will 
say this — that if it wasn’t for me, I really don’t know what 
would become of Miss Bray’s spirits,, and so I tell the doctor 
every day. He says he wonders how I sustain my own, and 
I am sure I very often wonder myself how I can contrive to 
keep up as I do. Of course, it’s an exertion, but still, when 
I know how much depends upon me in this house, I am obliged 
to make it. There’s nothing praiseworthy in that, but it’s 
necessary, and I do it.” 

With that, Mrs. Nickleby would draw up a chair and for 
some three-quarters of an hour run through a great variety 
of distracting topics in the most distracting manner possible, 
tearing herself away, at length, on the plea that she must 
now go and amuse Nicholas while he took his supper. After 
a preliminary raising of his spirits with the information that 
she considered the patient decidedly worse, she would further 
cheer him up by relating how dull, listless, and low-spirited 
Miss Bray was, because Kate foolishly talked about nothing 
else but him and family matters. When she had made 
Nicholas thoroughly comfortable with these and other in¬ 
spiriting remarks, she would discourse at length on the ardu¬ 
ous duties she had performed that day and sometimes would 


526 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

be moved to tears in wondering how, if anything were to hap¬ 
pen to herself, the family would ever get on without her. 

At other times, when Nicholas came home at night, he 
would be accompanied by Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who was 
commissioned by the brothers to inquire how Madeline was 
getting along. On such occasions (and they were of very 
frequent occurrence), Mrs. Nickleby deemed it of particular 
importance that she should have her wits about her; for from 
certain signs and tokens which had attracted her attention, 
she shrewdly suspected that Mr. Frank, interested as his 
uncles were in Madeline, came quite as much to see Kate 
as to inquire after the former; the more especially as the 
brothers were in constant communication with the medi¬ 
cal man, came backwards and forwards very frequently them¬ 
selves, and received a full report from Nicholas every morn¬ 
ing. Mrs. Nickleby took the opportunity of being left alone 
with her son before retiring to rest, to sound him on the sub¬ 
ject which so occupied her thoughts; not doubting that they 
could have but one opinion respecting it. To this end, she 
approached the question with divers laudatory and appro¬ 
priate remarks touching the general amiability of Mr. Frank 
Cheeryble. 

“ You are quite right, mother, quite right. He is a fine 
fellow.” 

“ Good-looking, too.” 

“ Decidedly good-looking.” 

“ He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear.” 

Nicholas laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he 
was glad to hear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep 
in their new friend’s confidence already. 

“ Hem! I don’t know about that, my dear, but I think 
it is very necessary that somebody should be in his confi¬ 
dence; highly necessary.” 

Elated by a look of curiosity from her son and the con- 


527 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

sciousness of possessing a great secret, all to herself, Mrs. 
Nickleby went on with great animation: 

“ I am sure > my dear Nicholas, how you can have failed 
to notice it is, to me, quite extraordinary, though I don’t 
know why I should say that, either, because, of course, as far 
as it goes, and to a certain extent, there is a great deal in 
this sort of thing, especially in this early stage, which, how¬ 
ever clear it may be to females, can scarcely be expected to be 
so evident to men. I don’t say that I have any particular 
penetration in such matters. I may have. Those about 
me should know best about that, and perhaps do know. 
Upon that point I shall express no opinion; it wouldn’t be¬ 
come me to do so; it’s quite out of the question, quite.” 

Nicholas snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets, 
and leaning back in his chair, assumed a look of patient 
suffering and melancholy resignation. 

“ I think it my duty, Nicholas, my dear, to tell you what 
I know, not only because you have a right to know it too, 
and to know everything that happens in this family, but 
because you have it in your power to promote and assist the 
thing very much. There are a great many things you might 
do, such as taking a walk in the garden sometimes, or sitting 
upstairs in your own room for a little while, or making 
believe to fall asleep occasionally, or pretending that you 
recollected some business, and going out for an hour or so, 
and taking Mr. Smike with you. These seem very slight 
things, and I dare say you will be amused at my making 
them of so much importance. At the same time, my dear, 
I can assure you (and you’ll find this out, Nicholas, for your¬ 
self one of these days, if you ever fall in love with anybody, 
as I trust and hope you will, provided she is respectable and 
well conducted, and of course you’d never dream of falling 
in love with anybody who was not), I say, I can assure you 
that a great deal more depends on these little things than 


528 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

you would suppose possible. If your poor papa was alive 
he would tell you how much depended on the parties being 
left alone. Of course, you are not to go out of the room as 
if you meant it and did it on purpose, but as if it was quite 
an accident, and to come back again in the same way. If 
you cough in the passage before you open the door, or whistle 
carelessly, or hum a tune, or something of that sort to let 
them know you’re coming, it’s always better, because, of 
course, though it’s not only natural but perfectly correct and 
proper under the circumstances, still it is very confusing if 
you interrupt young people when they are — when they are 
sitting on the sofa, and — and all that sort of thing, which is 
very nonsensical, perhaps, but still they will do it. 

The profound astonishment with which her son regarded 
her during this long address in no way discomposed Mrs. 
Nickleby, but rather exalted her opinion of her own clever¬ 
ness; therefore, merely stopping to remark with much com¬ 
placency that she had fully expected him to be surprised, she 
entered on a vast quantity of circumstantial evidence of a 
particularly incoherent and perplexing kind, the upshot of 
which was, to establish beyond the possibility of doubt, that 
Mr. Frank Cheeryble had fallen desperately in love with 
Kate. 

“ With whom? ” cried Nicholas. 

Mrs. Nickleby repeated, “ With Kate.” 

“What! Our Kate! My sister! ” 

“Lord, Nicholas, whose Kate should it be, if not ours; 
or what should I care about it, or take any interest in it for, 
if it was anybody but your sister? ” 

“ Dear mother, surely it can’t be! ” 

“ Very good, my dear, wait and see.” 

Nicholas had never, until that moment, bestowed a thought 
on the possibility of such an occurrence for, besides that he 
had been much from home of late and closely occupied with 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


529 


other matters, his own jealous fears had prompted the sus¬ 
picion that some secret interest in Madeline occasioned those 
visits of Frank Cheeryble which had recently become so 
frequent. Even now, although he knew that the observation 
of an anxious mother was much more likely to be correct 
than his own, he was not quite convinced that they did not just 
arise from mere good-natured thoughtless gallantry, which 
would have dictated the same conduct towards any other girl 
who was young and pleasing. At all events, he hoped so, and 
therefore tried to believe it. 

“ I am very much disturbed by what you tell me,” said 
Nicholas, after a little reflection, “ though I yet hope you 
may be mistaken.” 

“I don’t understand why you should hope so, I confess; 
but you may depend upon it I am not.” 

“ What of Kate? ” inquired Nicholas. 

“ Why that, my dear, is just the point upon which I am 
not yet satisfied. During this sickness, she has been con¬ 
stantly at Madeline’s bedside — never were two people so 
fond of each other as they have grown — and to tell you the 
truth, Nicholas, I have rather kept her away now and then, 
because I think it’s a good plan, and urges a young man on. 
He doesn’t get too sure, you know.” 

She said this with such a mingling of high delight and self- 
congratulation that it Was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas 
to dash her hopes; but he felt that there was only one 
honourable course before him, and that he was bound to 
take it. 

" Dear mother,” he said kindly, “ don’t you see that if 
there were really any serious inclination on the part of Mr. 
Frank towards Kate, and we permitted ourselves for a 
moment to encourage it, we should be acting a most dis¬ 
honourable and ungrateful part? I ask you if you don’t 
see it, but I need not say that I know you don’t, or you would 


530 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


have been more strictly on your guard. Let me explain my 
meaning to you. Remember how poor we are.” 

Mrs. Nickleby shook her head and said through her tears 
that poverty was not a crime. 

“ No, and for that reason poverty should engender an 
honest pride, that it may not lead and tempt us to unworthy 
actions and that we may preserve the self-respect which a 
1 hewer of wood and drawer of water 1 may maintain, and 
does better in maintaining than a monarch in preserving his. 
Think what we owe to these two brothers; remember what 
they have done, and what they do every day for us, with 
a generosity and delicacy for which the devotion of our whole 
lives would be a most imperfect and inadequate return. 
What kind of return would that be which would be comprised 
in our permitting their nephew, their only relative, whom 
they regard as a son, and for whom it would be mere childish¬ 
ness to suppose they have not formed plans suitably adapted 
to the education he has had, and the fortune he will inherit 
— in our permitting him to marry a portionless girl, so closely 
connected with us that the irresistible inference must be that 
he was entrapped by a plot, that it was a deliberate scheme, 
and a speculation amongst us three? Bring the matter 
clearly before yourself, mother. Now, how would you feel 
if they were married, and the brothers coming here on one 
of those kind errands which bring them here so often, you 
had to break out to them the truth? Would you be at ease 
and feel that you had played an open part ? ” 

Poor Mrs. Nickleby, crying more and more, murmured 
that, of course, Mr. Frank would ask the consent of his 
uncles first. 

“ Why, to be sure, that would place him in a better situa¬ 
tion with them, but we should still be open to the same 
suspicions; the distance between us would still be as great; 
the advantages to be gained would still be as manifest as now. 


531 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

We may be reckoning without our host, in all this,” he 
added more cheerfully, “ and I trust and almost believe we 
are. If it be otherwise, I have that confidence in Kate that 
I know she will feel as I do — and in you, dear mother, to be 
assured that after a little consideration you will do the 
same.” 

After many more representations and entreaties, Nicholas 
obtained a promise from Mrs. Nickleby that she would try 
all she could to think as he did. He determined to forbear 
mentioning the subject to Kate, until he was quite convinced 
that there existed a real necessity for his doing so; and he 
resolved to assure himself as well as he could by close personal 
observation of the exact position of affairs. This was a very 
wise resolution, but he was prevented from putting it in 
practice by a new source of anxiety and uneasiness. 

Smike became alarmingly ill, so reduced and exhausted that 
he could scarcely move from room to room without assist¬ 
ance, so worn and emaciated, that it was painful to look 
upon him. Nicholas was warned by the same medical 
authority to whom he had at first appealed that the last 
chance and hope of his life depended on his being instantly 
removed from London. That part of Devonshire in which 
Nicholas had been himself bred was named as the most 
favourable spot; but this advice was cautiously coupled with 
the information that whoever accompanied him thither must 
be prepared for the worst; for every token of rapid consump¬ 
tion had appeared, and he might never return alive. 

The kind brothers, who were acquainted with the poor 
creature’s sad history, dispatched old Tim to be present at 
this consultation. That same morning, Nicholas was sum¬ 
moned by Brother Charles into his private room, and thus 
addressed: 

“ My dear sir, no time must be lost. This lad shall not 
die if such human means as we can use can save his life; 


532 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


neither shall he die alone and in a strange place. Remove 
him tomorrow morning; see that he has every comfort that 
his situation requires, and don’t leave him; don’t leave him, 
my dear sir, until you know that there is no longer any imme¬ 
diate danger. It would be hard, indeed, to part you now. 
No, no, no! Tim shall wait upon you tonight, sir; Tim shall 
wait upon you tonight with a parting word or two. Brother 
Ned, my dear fellow, Mr. Nickleby waits to shake hands and 
say good-bye; Mr. Nickleby won’t be long gone; this poor 
chap will soon get better, very soon get better; and then 
he’ll find out some nice homely country people to leave him 
with, and will go backwards and forwards sometimes — 
backwards and forwards you know, Ned. And there’s no 
cause to be down-hearted, for he’ll very soon get better, very 
soon. Won’t he, won’t he, Ned? ” 

What Tim Linkinwater said, or what he brought with him 
that night, need not to be told. Next morning Nicholas and 
his feeble companion began their long journey. 

And who but one — and that one he who, but for those 
who crowded round him then, had never met a look of kind¬ 
ness, or known a word of pity — could tell what agony of 
mind, what blighted thoughts, what unavailing sorrow, were 
involved in that parting! 

“ See,” cried Nicholas, as he looked from the coach window, 
“ they are at the corner of the lane still! And now there’s 
Kate, poor Kate whom you said you couldn’t bear to say 
good-bye to, waving her handkerchief. Don’t go without one 
gesture of farewell to Kate! ” 

“ I cannot make it! ” cried his trembling companion, 
falling back in his seat and covering his eyes. “ Do you see 
her now ? Is she there still ? ” 

“Yes, yes!” said Nicholas earnestly. “There! She 
waves her hand again! I have answered it for you — and 
now they are out of sight. Do not give way so bitterly, dear 
friend, don’t. You will meet them all again.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


533 


CHAPTER XL 

D IVIDING the distance into two days’ journey, in order 
that Smike might sustain the less exhaustion and fatigue 
from travelling so far, Nicholas, at the end of the second 
day from their leaving home, found himself within a very 
few miles of the spot where the happiest years of his life 
had been passed. While this filled his mind with pleasant 
and peaceful thoughts, it also brought back many painful 
and vivid recollections of the circumstances in which he and 
his had wandered forth from their old home, cast upon the 
rough world and the mercy of strangers. 

It needed no such reflections as those which the memory 
of old days and wanderings among scenes where our child¬ 
hood had been passed usually awaken in the most insensible 
minds, to soften the heart of Nicholas and render h im more 
than usually mindful of his drooping friend. By night and 
day, at all times and seasons, always watchful, attentive, and 
solicitous, and never varying in the discharge of his self- 
imposed duty to one so friendless and helpless as he whose 
sands of life were now fast running out and dwindling rapidly 
away, he was ever at his side. He never left him. To encourage 
and animate him, administer to his wants, support and cheer 
him to the utmost of his power, was now his constant and 
unceasing occupation. 

They procured a humble lodging in a small farmhouse sur¬ 
rounded by meadows, where Nicholas had often revelled 
when a child with a troop of merry schoolfellows, and here 
they took up their rest. 

At first, Smike was strong enough to walk about for short 
distances at a time, with no other support or aid than that 
•which Nicholas could afford him. At this time, nothing 
appeared to interest him so much as visiting those places 
which had been most familiar to his friend in bygone days. 


534 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Nicholas made such spots the scenes of their daily rambles, 
driving him from place to place in a little pony chair, and 
supporting him on his arm while they walked slowly among 
these old haunts, or lingered in the sunlight to take long 
parting looks of those which were most quiet and beautiful. 

It was on such occasions as these that Nicholas would point 
out some tree that he had climbed a hundred times, to peep 
at the young birds in their nest; and the branch from which 
he used to shout to little Kate, who stood below terrified 
at the height he had gained, and yet urging him higher still 
by the intensity of her admiration. There was the old house, 
too, which they would pass every day, looking up at the tiny 
window through which the sun used to stream in and wake 
him on the summer mornings — they were all summer morn¬ 
ings then. There was not a lane, or brook, or copse, or 
cottage near, with which some childish event was not en¬ 
twined. 

One of these expeditions led them through the churchyard 
where was his father’s grave. “ Even here,” said Nicholas, 
softly, “ we used to loiter before we knew what death was, 
and when we little thought whose ashes would rest beneath, 
and, wondering at the silence, sit down to rest and speak 
below our breath. Once Kate was lost, and after an hour 
of fruitless search, they found her fast asleep under that tree 
which shades my father’s grave. He was very fond of her 
and said, when he took her up in his arms, still sleeping, that 
whenever he died he would wish to be buried where his dear 
little child had laid her head. You see his wish was not 
forgotten.” 

Nothing more passed, at the time, but that night, as Nicho¬ 
las sat beside his bed, Smike started from what had seemed to 
be a slumber and, laying his hand in his, prayed, as the tears 
coursed down his face, that he would make him one solemn 
promise. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 535 

“ What is that? ” said Nicholas, kindly. “ If I can redeem 
it, or hope to do so, you know I will.” 

“ I am sure you will. Promise me that when I die, I shall 
be buried near — as near as they can make my grave — to 
the tree we saw today.” 

Nicholas gave the promise; he had few words to give it 
in, but they were solemn and earnest. His poor friend kept 
his hand in his, and turned as if to sleep. But there were 
stifled sobs; and the hand was pressed more than once, or 
twice, or thrice, before he sank to rest and slowly loosed 
his hold. 

In a fortnight’s time, he became too ill to move about. Once 
or twice, Nicholas drove him out, propped up with pillows; 
but the motion of the chaise was painful to him, and brought 
on fits of fainting, which, in his weakened state, were danger¬ 
ous. There was an old couch in the house which was his 
favourite resting place by day. When the sun shone, and the 
weather was warm, Nicholas had this wheeled into a little 
orchard which was close at hand, and his charge being well 
wrapped up and carried out to it, they used to sit there 
sometimes for hours together. 

It was on one of these occasions that a circumstance took 
place which Nicholas, at the time, believed to be the delusion 
of an imagination affected by disease, but which he had after¬ 
wards too good reason to know was of real and actual occur¬ 
rence. 

He had brought Smike out in his arms — poor fellow! a 
child might have carried him then — to see the sunset and, 
having arranged his couch, had taken his seat beside it. 
Nicholas had been watching the whole of the night before 
and, being greatly fatigued both in body and mind, gradually 
fell asleep. 

He could not have closed his eyes five minutes, when he 
was awakened by a scream, and starting up in that kind of 


536 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


terror which affects a person suddenly roused, saw, to his 
great astonishment, that his charge had struggled into a 
sitting posture, and with eyes almost starting from their 
sockets, cold dew standing on his forehead, and in a fit of 
trembling which quite convulsed his frame, was calling to 
him for help. 

“ Good heaven, what is this! ” said Nicholas, bending over 
him. “ Be calm; you have been dreaming.” 

“ No, no, no! ” cried Smike, clinging to him. “ Hold me 
tight. Don’t let me go. There, there! Behind the tree! ” 

Nicholas followed his eyes, which were directed to some 
distance behind the chair from which he himself had just 
risen. But there was nothing there. 

“ This is nothing but your fancy,” he said, as he strove to 
compose him, “ nothing else indeed.” 

“ I know better. I saw as plain as I see now. Oh, say 
you’ll keep me with you. Swear you won’t leave me, for an 
instant! ” 

“Do I ever leave you? Lie down again — there! You 
see I’m here. Now tell me, what was it? ” 

“ Do you remember,” said Smike, in a low voice, and 
glancing fearfully round, “ do you remember my telling you 
of the man who first took me to the school ? ” 

“Yes, surely.” 

“ I raised my eyes, just now, towards that tree — that one 
with the thick trunk — and there, with his eyes fixed on me, 
he stood! ” 

“ Only reflect for one moment, granting, for an instant, 
that it’s likely he is alive, wandering about a lonely place 
like this, so far removed from the public road; do you think 
that at this distance of time you could possibly know that 
man again? ” 

“ Anywhere — in any dress,” returned Smike, “ but just 
now he stood leaning upon his stick and looking at me, 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


537 


exactly as I told you I remembered him. He was dusty 
with walking, and poorly dressed — I think his clothes were 
ragged — but directly I saw him, the wet night, his face when 
he left me, the parlour I was left in, the people who were 
there, all seemed to come back together. When he knew I 
saw him, he looked frightened, for he started and shrank 
away. I have thought of him by day and dreamt of him by 
night. He looked in my sleep when I was quite a little child, 
and has looked in my sleep ever since, as he did just now.” 

Nicholas endeavoured by every persuasion and argument 
he could think of to convince the terrified creature that his 
imagination had deceived him and that this close resemblance 
between the creation of his dreams and the man he had seen 
was but a proof of it; but all in vain. When he could per¬ 
suade him to remain for a few moments in the care of the 
people to whom the house belonged, he instituted a strict 
inquiry whether any stranger had been seen and searched 
himself behind the tree and through the orchard, and upon 
the land immediately adjoining, and in every place near, 
where it was possible for a man to lie concealed, but all in 
vain. Satisfied that he was right in his original conjecture, 
he applied himself to calming the fears of Smike, which, after 
some time, he partially succeeded in doing, though not in 
removing the impression upon his mind; for he still declared 
again and again in the most solemn and fervid manner that 
he had positively seen what he had described and that nothing 
could ever remove his conviction of its reality. 

And now Nicholas began to see that hope was gone and 
that upon the partner of his poverty and the sharer of his 
better fortune the world was closing fast. There was little 
pain, little uneasiness, but there was no rallying, no effort, 
no struggle for life. He was worn and wasted to the last 
degree; his voice had sunk so low that he could scarce be 
heard to speak; nature was thoroughly exhausted. 


538 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


On a fine mild autumn day, when all was tranquil and at 
peace, when the soft sweet air crept in at the open window 
of the quiet room and not a sound was heard but the gentle 
rustling of the leaves, Nicholas sat in his old place by the 
bedside and knew that the time was nearly come. So very 
still it was that every now and then he bent down his ear 
to listen for the breathing of him who lay asleep, as if to 
assure himself that life was still there and that he had not 
fallen into that deep slumber from which on earth there is 
no waking. 

While he was thus employed, the closed eyes opened, 
and on the pale face there came a placid smile. 

“ That’s well,” said Nicholas. “ The sleep has done you 
good.” 

“ I have had such pleasant dreams, such pleasant, happy 
dreams! ” 

“ Of what? ” 

The dying boy turned towards him and, putting his arm 
about his neck, made answer, “ I shall soon be there! ” 

After a short silence he spoke again. 

“ I am not afraid to die; I am quite contented. I almost 
think that if I could rise from this bed quite well I would 
not wish to do so, now. You have so often told me we shall 
meet again — so very often lately, and now I feel the truth 
of that, so strongly — that I can even bear to part from 
you.” 

The trembling voice and tearful eye and the closer grasp 
of the arm showed how the words filled the speaker’s heart; 
nor were there wanting indications of how deeply they had 
touched the heart of him to whom they were addressed. 

“ You say well,” returned Nicholas at length, “ and com¬ 
fort me very much, dear fellow. Let me hear you say you are 
happy, if you can.” 

“ I must tell you something first. I should not have a 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 539 

secret from you. You will not blame me, at a time like this, 
I know.” 

“ I blame you! ” 

“ I am sure you will not. You asked me why I was so 
changed, and — and sat so much alone. Shall I tell you 
why ? ” 

“ Not if it pains you; I only asked that I might make you 
happier, if I could.” 

“ I know. I felt that at the time.” He drew his friend 
closer to him. “You will forgive me; I could not help it; 
but though I would have died to make her happy, it broke 
my heart to see — I know he loves her dearly — oh! who 
could find that out so soon as I! ” 

The words which followed were feebly and faintly uttered, 
and broken by long pauses; but from them, Nicholas learned 
for the first time that the dying boy, with all the ardour of 
a nature concentrated on one absorbing, hopeless, secret 
passion, loved his sister Kate. 

He had procured a lock of her hair, which hung at his 
breast, folded in one or two slight ribbons she had worn. 
He prayed that, when he was dead, Nicholas would take it 
off, so that no eyes but his might see it, and that when he was 
laid in his coffin and about to be placed in the earth, he would 
hang it round his neck again, that it might rest with him 
in the grave. 

Upon his knees Nicholas gave him this pledge and promised 
again that he should rest in the spot he had pointed out. 
They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek. 

“ Now,” he murmured, “ I am happy.” 

He fell into a light slumber, and, waking, smiled as before; 
then spoke of beautiful gardens, which he said stretched 
out before him and were filled with figures of men, women, 
and many children, all with light upon their faces; then, 
whispered that it was Eden — and so died. 


540 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XLI 

R ALPH sat alone in the solitary room where he was 
accustomed to take his meals and to sit in the evening 
when no profitable occupation called him abroad. Before 
him was an untasted breakfast, and near the spot where his 
fingers beat restlessly upon the table lay his watch. It was 
long past the time at which, for many years, he had put it in 
his pocket and gone with measured steps downstairs to the 
business of the day, but he took as little heed of its monoto¬ 
nous warning as of the meat and drink before him, and re¬ 
mained with his head resting on one hand, and his eyes fixed 
moodily on the ground. 

“What is this that hangs over me?” he said. “I have 
never pampered myself and I should not be ill. I have never 
moped and pined, but what can a man do without rest ? ” 

He pressed his hand upon his forehead. 

“ Night after night comes and goes, and I have no rest. 
If I sleep, what rest is that which is disturbed by constant 
dreams of the same detested faces crowding round me — of 
the same detested people? I must have rest. One night’s 
unbroken rest, and I should be a man again.” 

Pushing the table from him he noticed the watch, the hands 
of which were almost upon noon. 

“This is strange! Noon, and Noggs not here! What 
drunken brawl keeps him away? I would give something 
now—something in money even after that dreadful loss — 
if he had stabbed a man in a tavern scuffle, or broken into a 
house, or picked a pocket, or done anything that would send 
him abroad with an iron ring upon his leg, and rid me of him. 
Better still, if I could throw temptation in his way and lure 
him on to rob me. He should be welcome to what he took 
so I brought the law upon him; for he is a traitor, I swear! 
How, or when, or where I don’t know, though I suspect.” 


541 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

After waiting for another half-hour, he sent the woman 
who kept his house to Newman’s lodging to inquire if he 
were ill and why he had not come or sent. She brought 
back answer that he had not been home all night and 
that no one could tell her anything about him. Then she 
added: 

“ But there is a gentleman below, sir, who was standing 
at the door when I came in, and he says-” 

“ What says he ? ” demanded Ralph, turning angrily upon 
her. “ I told you I would see nobody.” 

“ He says that he comes on very particular business which 
admits of no excuse, and I thought perhaps it might be 
about-” 

“ About what, in the devil’s name? ” said Ralph. “ You 
spy and speculate on people’s business with me, do you? ” 

“ Dear, no, sir! I saw you were anxious, and thought 
it might be about Mr. Noggs; that’s all,” said the woman, 
quite disturbed by his harsh manner. 

“ Saw I was anxious! *” muttered Ralph; “ they all watch 
me now. Where is this person ? You did not say I was not 
down yet, I hope ? ” 

The woman replied that he was in the little office and that 
she had said her master was engaged, but she would take 
the message. 

“ Well, I’ll see him. Go you to your kitchen, and keep 
there. Do you mind me ? ” 

Glad to be released, the woman quickly disappeared, and 
Ralph descended the stairs. After pausing for a few moments 
with his hand upon the lock, he entered Newman’s room and 
confronted Mr. Charles Cheeryble. 

“ Humph! ” said Ralph, pausing at the door. “ This is 
an unexpected favour.” 

“And an unwelcome one,” said Brother Charles; “an 
unwelcome one, I know.” 

“ Men say you are truth itself, sir,” said Ralph. “ You 


542 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


speak truth now at all events, and Ell not contradict you. 
The favour is as unwelcome as it is unexpected. I can 
scarcely say more! ” 

“ Plainly, sir-” began Brother Charles. 

“ Plainly, sir,” interrupted Ralph, “ I wish this conference 
to be a short one and to end where it begins. I guess the sub¬ 
ject upon which you are about to speak, and 141 not hear you. 
You like plainness, I believe; there it is. Here is the door, as 
you see. Our ways lie in very different directions. Take 
yours, I beg of you, and leave me to pursue mine in quiet.” 

“ In quiet! ” repeated Brother Charles mildly, and looking 
at him with more of pity than reproach. “To pursue his 
way in quiet! ” 

“ You will scarcely remain in my house, I presume, sir, 
against my will, or you can scarcely hope to make an impres¬ 
sion upon a man who closes his ears to all that you can say 
and is firmly determined not to hear you.” 

“ Mr. Nickleby, I come here against my will. I have never 
been in this house before, and have no wish ever to be here 
again. You do not guess the subject on which I come. You 
do not indeed. I am sure of that, or your manner would be 
a very different one.” 

Ralph glanced keenly at him, but the clear eye and open 
countenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change 
of. expression and met his look without reserve. 

“ Shall I go on ? ” said Mr. Cheeryble. 

“ Oh, by all means, if you please. Here are walls to speak 
to, a desk, and two stools — most attentive auditors and 
certain not to interrupt you. Go on, I beg; make my house 
yours, and perhaps by the time I return from my walk, you 
will have finished what you have to say, and will yield me up 
possession again.” 

So saying, he buttoned his coat, and turning into the 
passage, took down his hat. The old gentleman followed and 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 543 

was about to speak, when Ralph waved him off impatiently, 
and said: 

** Not a word; I tell you, sir, not a word. Virtuous as you 
are, you are not an angel yet, to appear in men’s houses, 
whether they will or no, and pour your speech into unwilling 
ears. Preach to the walls, I tell you; not to me! ” 

“ I am no angel, heaven knows,” returned Brother Charles, 
“but an erring and imperfect man; nevertheless, there is 
one quality which all men have, in common with angels, 
mercy. It is an errand of mercy that brings me here. Let 
me discharge it.” 

“ I show no mercy,” retorted Ralph, with a triumphant 
smile, “ and I ask none. Seek no mercy from me, sir, in 
behalf of the fellow who has imposed upon you, but let him 
expect the worst that I can do.” 

“ He ask mercy at your hands,” exclaimed the old merchant 
warmly, “ ask it at his, sir; ask it at his. If you will not hear 
me now, hear me when you must. Your nephew is a noble 
lad — an honest, noble lad. What you are, Mr. Nickleby, I 
will not say; but what you have done, I know. Now, sir, 
when you go about the business in which you have been 
recently engaged and find it difficult of pursuing, come to me 
and my brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater, and we’ll explain 
it for you — and come soon, or it may be too late; and never 
forget that I came here this morning, in mercy to you, and 
am still ready to talk to you in the same spirit.” 

With these words Brother Charles put on his broad- 
brimmed hat and, passing Ralph Nickleby, trotted nimbly 
into the street. Ralph looked after him, but neither moved 
nor spoke for some time, when he broke the silence by a 
scornful laugh. 

“ This should be another of those dreams that have so 
broken my rest of late. In mercy to me! Pho! The old 
simpleton ha? gone mad.” 


544 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


Still he became more and more ill at ease as time passed 
and no tidings of Newman Noggs arrived. After waiting 
until late in the afternoon, he left home, and scarcely know¬ 
ing why, save that he was in a suspicious and agitated mood, 
he betook himself to Snawley’s house. His wife came to the 
door herself; and of her Ralph inquired whether her husband 
was at home. 

“ No,” she said sharply, “ he is not indeed, and I don’t 
think he will be at home for a very long time; that’s more.” 

“ Do you know who I am? ” asked Ralph. 

“ Oh, yes, I know you very well; too well, perhaps, and 
perhaps he does too, and sorry am I that I should have to 
say it.” 

“ Tell him that I saw him through the window blind above 
as I crossed the road just now and that I would speak to him 
on business. Do you hear? ” 

“ I hear,” rejoined Mrs. Snawley, taking no further notice 
of the request. 

“ I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms 
and Scripture phrases,” said Ralph, passing quietly by, 
“ but I never knew she drank before.” 

“ Stop! You don’t come in here,” said Mr. Snawley’s 
better half, interposing her person, which was a robust one, 
in the doorway. “ You have said more than enough to him on 
business before now. I always told him what dealing with 
you and working out your schemes would come to. It was 
either you or the schoolmaster — one of you, or the two 
between you — that got the forged letter done, remember 
that! That wasn’t his doing, so don’t lay that at his door.” 

“ Hold your tongue, you Jezebel,” said Ralph, looking 
fearfully round. 

“ Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak, 
Mr. Nickleby. Take care that other people know when to 
hold their tongues.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


545 


“You jade! If your husband has been idiot enough to 
trust you with his secrets, keep them; keep them, she-devil 
that you are! ” 

“ Not so much his secrets as other people’s secrets, perhaps; 
not so much his secrets as yours,” retorted the woman. 
“ None of your black looks at me! You’ll want ’em all per¬ 
haps for another time. You had better keep ’em.” 

“ Will you,” said Ralph, suppressing his passion as well 
as he could, and clutching her tightly by the wrist, “ will you 
go to your husband and tell him that I know he is at home 
and that I must see him? And will you tell me what it is 
that you and he mean by this new style of behaviour? ” 

“ No,” replied the woman, violently disengaging herself. 
“ I’ll do neither.” 

“ You set me at defiance, do you? ” said Ralph. 

“ Yes, I do.” 

For an instant Ralph had his hand raised, as though he 
were about to strike her, but checking himself, walked away. 

He went straight to the inn which Mr. Squeers frequented 
and inquired when he had been there last. But Mr. Squeers 
had not been there for ten days, and all that the people could 
tell about him was that he had left his luggage and his bill. 

Disturbed by a thousand fears Ralph determined to hazard 
the extreme step of inquiring for him at the Lambeth lodging, 
where Peg Sliderskew had hidden herself and her stolen 
papers, and having an interview with him even there. Being 
perfectly acquainted with the situation of Squeers’s room, 

. he crept upstairs and knocked gently at the door. Not one, 
nor two, nor yet three, nor yet a dozen knocks served to 
convince Ralph, against his wish, that there was nobody 
inside. He waited quite a while, but there was not the 
slightest sign of the schoolmaster. 

Now, thoroughly alarmed, he went to the home of Arthur 
Gride. There he found the windows close shut, the dingy 


546 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


blinds drawn down, all silent, melancholy, and deserted. He 
knocked gently at first — then loudly and vigorously. No¬ 
body came to the door. He wrote a few words in pencil 
on a card and, having thrust it under the door, was going 
away, when a noise above, as though a window were raised, 
caught his ear and, looking up, he could just see the face of 
Gride himself, cautiously looking out. Seeing who was 
below, he quickly drew in his head, not so quickly, however, 
but that Ralph let him know he was observed and called to 
him to come down. 

The call being repeated, Gride looked out again, so cau¬ 
tiously that no part of the old man’s body was visible. The 
sharp features and white hair appearing alone, above the 
parapet, looked like a severed head garnishing the wall. 

“ Hush! ” he cried. “ Go away! Go away! ” 

“ Come down,” said Ralph, beckoning him. 

“ Go a-way! ” squeaked Gride, shaking his head in 
impatience. “ Don’t speak to me, don’t knock, don ? t call 
attention to the house, but go away.”' 

“ I’ll knock till I have your neighbours up in arms, if you 
don’t tell me what you mean by lurking there, you whining 
cur,” said Ralph. 

“ I can’t hear what you say — don’t talk to me — it isn’t 
safe — go away — go away — go away! ” returned Gride. 

“ Come down, I say. Will you come down? ” 

“ No-o-o-o,” snarled Gride. He drew in his head, and left 
Ralph standing in the street. He heard the window closed 
gently and carefully. 

“ How is this, that they all fall from me, and shun me like 
the plague, these men who have licked the dust from my 
feet! Is my day past, and is this indeed the coming on of 
night? I’ll know what it means! I will, at any cost. Iam 
firmer and more myself just now than I have been these many 
days.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


547 


Turning from the door, he went towards the city and, work¬ 
ing his way steadily through the crowd which was pouring 
from it, (it was by this time between five and six o’clock in 
the afternoon), went straight to the house of business of the 
Brothers Cheeryble. He found Tim Linkinwater alone. 

“ My name’s Nickleby,” said Ralph. 

“ I know it,” said Tim, surveying him through his spectacles. 

“ Which of your firm was it who called on me this 
morning ? ” 

“ Mr. Charles.” 

“ Then tell Mr. Charles I want to see him.” 

“ You shall see,” said Tim, getting off his stool with great 
agility, “ not only Mr. Charles, but Mr. Ned likewise.” 

After a short interval he ushered Ralph into the presence 
of the two brothers, and remained in the room himself. 

“ I want to speak to you, who spoke to me this morning,” 
said Ralph, pointing out with his finger the man whom he 
addressed. 

“ I have no secrets from my brother Ned, or from Tim 
Linkinwater,” observed Brother Charles, quietly. 

“ I have,” said Ralph. 

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Brother Ned, “ the matter upon 
which my brother Charles called upon you this morning is 
well known to us three, and to others besides, and must soon 
become known to a great many more. If we confer together, 
it must be as we are, or not at all.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Ralph, with a curl of the lip, 
“ talking in riddles seems to be the peculiar style here. Well, 
talk in company, then; I’ll humour you.” 

“ Humour! ” cried Tim Linkinwater, suddenly growing 
very red in the face. “ He’ll humour us! He’ll humour 
Cheeryble Brothers! Do you hear that ? Do you hear him ? 
Do you hear him say he’ll humour Cheeryble Brothers ? ” 

“ Tim,” said Charles and Ned together, “ Tim, don’t.” 


548 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Tim, taking the hint, stifled his indignation as well as he 
could. 

“ As nobody bids me to a seat,” said Ralph, looking round, 
“ I’ll take one, for I am tired with walking. And now, 
gentlemen, if you please, I wish to know — I demand to 
know — what you have to say to me. I tell you plainly that 
I don’t choose to submit quietly to slander and malice.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Brother Charles. “ Very well. 
Brother Ned, will you ring the bell? ” 

“ Charles, stop one instant. It will be better for Mr. 
Nickleby and for our object that he should remain silent 
if he can, till we have said what we have to say. I wish him 
to understand that.” 

Ralph smiled, but made no reply. The bell was rung. The 
room door opened. A man came in with a halting walk and, 
looking round, Ralph’s eyes met those of Newman Noggs. 
From that moment his heart began to fail him. 

“ This is a good beginning,” he said, bitterly. “ Oh, this 
is a good beginning! You are honest, open-hearted men, 
fair dealing and candid! I always knew the real worth of 
such characters as yours! To tamper with a fellow like 
this, who would sell his soul (if he had one) for a drink, and 
whose every word is a lie! What men are safe, if this is 
done? Oh, it’s a good beginning! ” 

“ I will speak,” cried Newman, standing on tiptoe to look 
over Tim’s head, who had interposed to prevent him. 
“ Hallo, you sir — old Nickleby! — What do you mean when 
you talk of ‘ a fellow like this ’ ? Who made me a f fellow 
like this ’ ? If I would sell my soul for drink, why wasn’t I 
a thief, swindler, housebreaker, robber of pence out of the 
trays of blind men’s dogs rather than your drudge and pack- 
horse? If my every word was a lie, why wasn’t I a pet 
and favourite of yours? Lie! When did I ever cringe and 
fawn to you? Tell me that! I served you faithfully. I did 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


549 


more work, because I was poor, and took more hard words 
from you than any man you could have got from the poor- 
house. I did. I served you because I was proud, because I 
was a lonely man with you and there were no other drudges 
to see my degradation; because nobody knew, better than 
you, that I was a ruined man, that I hadn’t always been what 
I am, and that I might have been better off if I hadn’t been 
a fool and fallen into the hands of you and others who were 
knaves. Do you deny that? ” 

“ Gently,” reasoned Tim, “ you said you wouldn’t.” 

“ I said I wouldn’t! ” cried Newman, thrusting him aside. 
“ Don’t tell me! Here, you Nickleby! Don’t pretend not 
to mind me; it won’t do; I know better. You were talking 
of tampering, just now. Who tampered with Yorkshire 
schoolmasters and, while they sent the drudge out that he 
shouldn’t overhear, forgot that such great caution might 
render him suspicious, and that he might watch his master 
out at nights, and might set other eyes to watch the school¬ 
master? Who tampered with a selfish father, urging him 
to sell his daughter to old Arthur Gride, and tampered with 
Gride, too, and did so in the little office with a closet in the 
room f ” 

Ralph had great command upon himself but could not 
suppress a slight start. 

“Aha! ” cried Newman, “you mind me now, do you? 
I’m here now because these gentlemen thought it best. When 
I sought them out (as I did; there was no tampering with me), 
I told them I wanted help to find you out, to trace you down, 
to go through with what I had begun, to help the right, and 
that, when I had done it, I’d burst into your room and tell 
you all, face to face, man to man, and like a man. Now 
I’ve said my say, and let anybody else say theirs, and fire 
away! ” 

With this, Newman Noggs became upright and motionless 


550 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

and so remained, staring at Ralph Nickleby with all his might 
and main. 

Ralph looked at him for an instant, and for an instant 
only; then waved his hand and, beating the ground with his 
foot, said in a choking voice: 

“ Go on, gentlemen, go on! I’m patient, you see. There’s 
law to be had, there’s law. I shall call you to account 
for this. Take care what you say. I shall make you 
prove it.” 

“ The proof is ready,” returned Brother Charles, “ quite 
ready to our hands. The man Snawley last night made 
a confession.” 

“ Who may ‘ the man Snawley ’ be,” returned Ralph, “ and 
what may his ‘ confession ’ have to do with my affairs ? ” 

To this inquiry the old gentleman returned no answer, 
but went on to say that, to show how much they were in 
earnest, it would be necessary to tell him not only what 
accusations were against him, but what proof of them they 
had, and how that proof had been acquired. All discoveries 
were now related to Ralph in detail. Whatever impression 
they produced, he allowed no sign of emotion to escape him, 
but sat perfectly still, not raising his frowning eyes from the 
ground, and covering his mouth with his hand. When the 
narrative was concluded, he raised his head hastily, as if 
about to speak, but Brother Charles said: 

“ I told you this morning that I came to you in mercy. 
How far you may be implicated, or how far the person 
Squeers, now in prison, may incriminate you, you best know. 
But justice must take its course against the persons plotting 
against this poor, unoffending, injured boy. It is not in 
our power to save you from the consequences. The utmost 
we can do is to warn you in time and to give you an oppor¬ 
tunity of escaping them. We would not have an old man 
like you disgraced and punished by your near relation. We 
entreat you to leave London, to take shelter in some place 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


551 


where you will be safe from the consequences of these wicked 
designs, and where you may have time, sir, to atone for them 
and to become a better man.” 

“ And do you think,” returned Ralph, rising, “ you will 
so easily crush me f Do you think that a hundred well- 
arranged plans, or a hundred witnesses, or a hundred false 
curs at my heels, or a hundred canting speeches full of oily 
words will move me? I thank you for disclosing your 
schemes, which I am now prepared for. You have not the 
man to deal with that you think. Try me! And remember 
that I spit upon your fair words and false dealings, and dare 
you — provoke you — taunt you — to do me the very worst 
you can-” 

Thus they parted, for that time; but the worst had not 
come yet. 

Instead of going home, Ralph took the first cab he could 
find and went to the police office of the district in which Mr. 
Squeers’s misfortunes had occurred. Inquiring for the object 
of his solicitude, he was ushered into a kind of waiting room 
in which, by reason of his scholastic profession and superior 
respectability, Mr. Squeers had been permitted to pass the 
day. Here by the light of a candle he could barely be seen, 
fast asleep on a bench in the corner. An empty glass stood 
on the table, and there was a very strong smell of brandy 
in the room. It was very evident that the schoolmaster had 
been seeking a temporary forgetfulness of his unpleasant 
situation. 

It was not a very easy matter to rouse him, so heavy were 
his slumbers. Regaining his faculties by slow and faint 
glimmerings, he at length sat upright, displaying a very yellow 
face, a very red nose, and a very bristly beard. The general 
effect was heightened by a dirty white handkerchief, spotted 
with blood, drawn over the crown of his head, and tied under 
his chin. He stared ruefully at Ralph in silence, until his 
feelings found vent in this pithy sentence: 


552 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ I say, young fellow, you’ve been and done it now, you 
have! ” 

“ What’s the matter with your head?” asked Ralph. 

“ Why, your man, your informing, kidnapping man, has 
been and broke it,” rejoined Squeers, sulkily; “ that’s what’s 
the matter with it. You’ve come at last, have you? ” 

“ Why didn’t you send for me? How could I come till I 
knew what had befallen you ? ” 

“ My family! ” hiccupped Mr. Squeers, raising his eye 
to the ceiling; “my daughter, as is at that age when all 
the sensibilities is a’coming out strong in blow — my son as 
is the pride and ornament of a doting willage — here’s a shock 
for my family! The coat of arms of the Squeerses is tore, 
and their sun is gone down into the ocean wave! ” 

* “ You have been drinking and have not yet slept yourself 
sober.” 

“I haven’t been drinking your health, my codger, so 
you have nothing to do with that,” replied Squeers. 

Ralph suppressed the indignation which the schoolmaster’s 
insolent manner awakened and asked again why he had not 
sent to him. 

“ What should I get by sending to you? To be known to 
be in with you wouldn’t do me a deal of good, and they won’t 
take bail till they know something more of the case, so 
here I am hard and fast; and there are you, loose and com¬ 
fortable.” 

“ And so must you be, in a few days,” retorted Ralph, with 
affected good humour. “They can’t hurt you, man.” 

“ Why, I suppose they can’t do much to me, if I explain 
how it was that I got into the good company of that ca¬ 
daverous old Slider, who I wish was dead and buried, and 
resurrected and dissected, and hung upon wires in a museum, 
before I’d had anything to do with her. This is what the 
judge says to me this morning: 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


553 


Prisoner! As you have been found in company with 
this woman who stole some papers, as you were detected in 
possession of a stolen document, as you were engaged with 
her in fraudulently destroying others, and can give no satis¬ 
factory account of yourself, I shall remand you for a week 
that inquiries may be made, and evidence got. And mean¬ 
while, I can’t take any bail for your appearance.’ Well then, 
what I say now is that I can give a satisfactory account 
of myself; I can hand in the card of my establishment and 
say, ‘ I am the Wackford Squeers as is therein named, sir. 
I am the man as is guaranteed to be an out-and-outer in 
morals and uprightness of principle. Whatever is wrong 
in this business is no fault of mine. I had no evil designs in 
it, sir. I was not aware that anything was wrong. I was 
merely employed by a friend, Mr. Ralph Nickleby.. Send 
for him, sir, and ask him what he has to say; he’s the man, 
not me! ” 

“ What document was it that you had? ” inquired Ralph. 

“What document? Why, the document. The Madeline 
what’s-her-name one. It was a will, that’s what it was.” 

“ Of what nature, whose will, when dated, how benefiting 
her, to what extent ? ” asked Ralph hurriedly. 

“ A will in her favour; that’s all I know; and that’s more 
than you’d have known, if you’d had them bellows on your 
head. It’s all owing to your precious caution that they got 
hold of it. If you had let me burn it and taken my word 
that it was gone, it would have been a heap of ashes behind 
the fire, instead of being whole and sound inside of my great¬ 
coat.” 

“Beaten at every point! ” muttered Ralph. 

“ Ah! ” sighed Squeers, who, between the brandy and water 
and his broken head, wandered strangely, “ at the delightful 
village of Dotheboys, youth are boarded, clothed, booked, 
washed, furnished with pocket money, provided with all 


554 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


necessaries, instructed in all languages, living and dead, 
mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigo¬ 
nometry— this is a altered state of trigonomics, this is! A 
double L — all, everything — a cobbler’s weapon; U-P — 
up, adjective, not down; iS-g-w-doublee-r-s— Squeers, noun 
substantive, a educator of youth. Total, all up with 
Squeers! ” 

His running on in this way had given Ralph an opportunity 
of recovering his presence of mind, which suggested the 
necessity of removing the schoolmaster’s fear and leading 
him to believe that his safety lay in keeping perfectly silent 
about the whole affair. 

“ I tell you once again they can’t hurt you. You shall sue 
them for false imprisonment and make a profit of this yet. 
We will devise a story for you that should carry you through 
twenty times such a trivial scrape as this. And if they want 
bail in a thousand pounds for your reappearance in case you 
should be called upon, you shall have it. All you have to 
do is to keep back the truth. You’re a little confused tonight 
and may not be able to see things as you would at another 
time; but this is what you must do; don’t tell anything; 
and you’ll need all your senses about you, for a slip might 
be awkward.” 

“ Oh! ” said Squeers, who had looked cunningly at him, 
with his head on one side like an old raven. “ That’s what 
I’m to do, is it ? Now then, just you hear a word or two from 
me. I ain’t a’going to have any stories made for me, and 
I ain’t a’going to stick to any. If I find matters going again 
me, I shall expect you to take your share, and I’ll take care 
you do. You never said anything about danger. I never 
bargained for being brought into such a plight as this, and 
I don’t mean to take it as quiet as you think. If all goes 
well now, that’s quite correct, and I don’t mind it, but if any¬ 
thing goes wrong, then times are altered, and I shall just 


555 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

say and do whatever may serve me best. — My moral in¬ 
fluence with them lads is a’tottering to its basis. The images 
of Mrs. Squeers, my daughter, and my son Wackford, all 
short of vittles, is perpetually before me! ” 

How long Mr. Squeers might have declaimed nobody 
knows. Being interrupted at this point by an attendant, he 
perched his hat w T ith great dignity on the top of the hand¬ 
kerchief that bound his head and, thrusting one hand in his 
pocket and taking the attendant’s.arm with the other, allowed 
himself to be led away. 

“ As I supposed from his not sending,” thought Ralph, 
“ this fellow has made up his mind to turn upon me. I am 
so beset and hemmed in that they are all struck with fear 
and, like the beasts in the fable, have their fling at me now, 
though time was, and no longer ago than yesterday, too, 
when they were all civility and compliance. But they shall 
not move me. I’ll not give way. I will not budge one 
inch! ” 

He went home and was glad to find his housekeeper com¬ 
plaining of illness that he might have an excuse for being alone 
and sending her home. Then he sat down by the light of a 
single candle and began to think, for the first time, on all that 
had taken place that day. 

He felt sick and exhausted, but could taste nothing except 
a glass of water and continued to sit with his head upon his 
hand, feeling that every sense but one of weariness and deso¬ 
lation was benumbed. It was nearly ten o’clock when he 
heard a knocking at the door. It had been often repeated 
before he could rouse himself and go downstairs. 

“■ Mr. Nickleby, there is terrible news for you, and I am 
sent to beg you will come with me directly,” said a voice he 
seemed to recognise. He held his hand above his eyes and, 
looking out, saw Tim Linkinwater on the steps. 

“ Come where? ” demanded Ralph. 


556 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Come to our house, where you came this morning. I 
have a coach here.” 

“ Why should I come there? ” said Ralph. 

“ Don’t ask me why, but please come.” 

u Another edition of today! ” returned Ralph, making as 
though he would shut the door. 

“ No, no!” cried Tim, catching him by the arm and 
speaking most earnestly; “it is only that you may hear 
something that has occurred — something very dreadful, 
Mr. Nickleby, which concerns you nearly. Do you think I 
would tell you so or come to you like this if it were not the 
case ? ” 

Ralph looked at him closely. Seeing that he was greatly ex¬ 
cited, he faltered and could not tell what to say or think. 
After a moment’s hesitation he went into the hall for his hat 
and, returning, got into the coach without speaking a word. 

Arrived at their place of destination, Ralph followed his 
conductor into the house and into a room where the two 
brothers were. Having taken a seat, he said: 

“ What — what have you to say to me — more than has 
been said already ? ” 

The room was old and large, very imperfectly lighted, and 
terminated in a bay window about which hung some heavy 
drapery. Casting his eyes in this direction, he thought he 
made out the dusky figure of a man. He was confirmed in 
this impression by seeing that the object moved, as if uneasy 
under his scrutiny. 

“ Who’s that yonder? ” he said. 

“ One who has conveyed to us within these two hours the 
intelligence which caused our sending to you,” said Brother 
Charles. “ Let him be, sir; let him be for the present.” 

“More riddles! ” said Ralph, faintly. “Well, sir?” 

The brothers conferred apart for a short time, their manner 
showing that they were agitated. Ralph glanced at them 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


557 


twice or thrice and finally said with a great effort to recover 
his self-possession, “Now, what is ‘this? If I am brought 
from home at this time of night, let it be for something.. 
What have you got to tell me ? ” After a short pause, he 
added, “ Is my niece dead ? ” 

He had struck upon a key which rendered the task of 
commencement an easier one. Brother Charles turned and 
said that it was a death of which they had to tell him, but 
that his niece was well. 

“ You don’t mean to tell me that her brother is dead,” 
said Ralph, as his eyes brightened. “No, that’s too good. 
I’d not believe it, if you told me so. It would be too welcome 
news to be true.” 

“ Shame on you, you hardened and unnatural man,” cried 
Brother Ned, warmly. “ Prepare yourself for intelligence 
which will make even you shrink and tremble. What if we 
tell you that a poor unfortunate boy, a warm-hearted, 
affectionate creature, who never offended you, or did you 
any harm, sinking under your persecution and the misery 
and ill usage of a life short in years but long in suffering, has 
gone to tell his sad tale where, for your part in it, you must 
surely answer?” 

“ If you tell me that he is dead, I forgive you all else,” 
said Ralph. “ If you tell me that he is dead, I am in your 
debt and bound to you for life. He is! I see it in your 
faces. Who triumphs now? Is this your dreadful news 
— this your terrible intelligence? You see how it moves me. 
You did well to send. I would have travelled a hundred miles 
afoot, through mud, mire, and darkness, to hear this news 
just at this time.” 

Even then, moved as he was by this savage joy, Ralph 
could see in the faces of the two brothers, mingling with 
their look of disgust and horror, something of that indefinable 
compassion for himself which he had noticed before. 


558 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ And he brought you the intelligence, did he ? ” said Ralph, 
pointing with his finger towards the bay window; “ and sat 
there to see me prostrated and overwhelmed by it! Ha, 
ha, ha! But I tell him that I’ll be a sharp thorn in his side 
for many a long day to come; and I tell you two, again, that 
you don’t know him yet and that you’ll rue the day you 
took compassion on the vagabond.” 

“You take me for your nephew,” said a hollow voice; 

“ it would be better for you and for me, too, if I were he 
indeed.” 

The figure that he had seen so dimly rose and came slowly 
forward. 

He started back, for he found that he confronted — not 
Nicholas, as he had supposed, but Brooker. 

Ralph had no reason, that he knew, to fear this man; yet he 
trembled, and his voice changed as he said: 

“ What does this fellow here ? Do you know he is a 
convict, a felon, a common thief ? ” 

“ Hear what he has to tell you, Mr. Nickleby; hear what 
he has to tell you, be he what he may! ” cried the brothers 
with such emphatic earnestness that Ralph turned to them 
in wonder. They pointed to Brooker. Ralph again gazed 
at him. 

“ That boy,” said the man, “ that these gentlemen have been 
talking of-” 

“ That boy,” repeated Ralph, looking vacantly at him. 

“ Whom I saw, stretched dead and cold upon his bed and 
who is now in his grave-” 

“ Who is now in his grave,” echoed Ralph. 

The man raised his eyes and clasped his hands solemnly 

together: “-Was your only son, so help me God in 

heaven! ” 

In the midst of a dead silence Ralph pressed his two 
hands upon his temples. He removed them, after a minute, 
and never was there seen a more ghastly face. He looked at 


559 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Brooker, who was at this time standing at a short distance 
from him, but did not say one word or make the slightest 
sound or gesture. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the man, “ I offer no excuses for myself. 
I am long past that. If in telling you how this has happened, 
I tell you that I was harshly used and perhaps driven out of 
my real nature, I do it only as a necessary part of my story, 
and not to shield myself. I am a guilty man.” 

He stopped as if to recollect and, looking away from Ralph, 
and addressing himself to the brothers, proceeded in a sub¬ 
dued and humble tone: 

About twenty qr twenty-five years ago a rough, fox¬ 
hunting, hard-drinking gentleman had dealings with Ralph 
Nickleby. This gentleman had run through his own fortune 
and wanted to squander away that of his sister who lived 
with him and managed his house. She was handsome and 
entitled to a pretty large property. In course of time Ralph 
Nickleby married her. But they kept the marriage secret, 
for a clause in her father’s will declared if she married without 
her brother’s consent the property should pass to another 
branch of the family. The result of this private marriage 
was a son. The child was put out to nurse a long way off. 
The wife remained alone in a dull country house, seeing little 
or no company but drunken sportsmen. Ralph Nickleby 
lived in London and clung to his business. He would never 
consent to have the marriage become known, for he did not 
want to lose any money. When they had been married 
nearly seven years and were within a few weeks’ time of the 
brother’s death, his wife eloped with a younger man, but 
died soon after. — I was sent to bring the child, a little boy, 
to the home of Ralph Nickleby, and I did so, putting him 
in the front garret. Neglect had made him very sickly, and 
I was obliged to call in a doctor. At this time no one but 
myself was in the house. He had gone in search of his wife, 
whom he never found. He was gone six weeks.” 


560 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

He went on, from this point, in a still more humble tone, 

and spoke in a very low voice. 

“ Ralph Nickleby had used me cruelly, and I hated him. 
When the doctor said the child must have a change of air 
or he would die, I thought of a plan of revenge. I took the 
child to the school of Mr. Squeers and told his father, when 
he returned, that the child was dead. I planned very suc¬ 
cessfully, for no one doubted that the child was dead and 
buried. I gave the boy the name of Smike. He might have 
been disappointed in some intention, or he might have had 
natural affection, but Ralph Nickleby was grieved to hear 
about the death of his only child. I made up my mind that 
I would open up the secret some day and make it the means 
of getting money from him. For six years I paid money 
to the man Squeers, and then I was sent away for eight years 
as a convict. As soon as I came home, I travelled down into 
Yorkshire and made inquiries around the school, finding 
that Smike had run away with a young man bearing the name 
of his own father. I sought out the father in London, but he 
repulsed me with threats. I then found out his clerk. One 
day I went down into the country where I had heard that 
Smike had been taken for his health. He saw me and recog¬ 
nised me. He had good cause to remember me, poor boy! 

I would have sworn that he was the same boy if I had met 
him in the Indies. I knew the piteous face I had seen in the 
little child. A few days later, I applied to the young man 
in whose care he was and found that the boy was dead. This 
young man knows that I was recognised. 

“ This is my story. I demand to be brought face to face 
with the schoolmaster, and I will show that it’s too true and 
that I have this guilt upon my soul. This confession can 
bring nothing upon me but new suffering and punishment. 
I have been made the instrument of working out this dread¬ 
ful retribution upon the head of a man who has persecuted 


561 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

and hunted to death his own child. My reparation comes 
too late; and neither in this world nor in the next can I have 
hope again! ” 

He had hardly spoken when the lamp was thrown to the 
ground, and they were left in darkness. There was some 
trifling confusion in obtaining another light; but when the 
light appeared, Ralph Nickleby was gone. 


CHAPTER XLII 

O N the morning after Brooker’s disclosure Nicholas re¬ 
turned home. In the meeting between him and those 
whom he had left there was strong emotion on both sides, 
for they had been informed by his letters of what had 
occurred. 

“ I am sure,” said Mrs. Nickleby, wiping her eyes and 
sobbing bitterly, “I have lost the best, the most zealous, 
and most attentive creature that has ever been a companion 
to me in my life — putting you, my dear Nicholas, and Kate, 
and your poor papa, and that well-behaved nurse, who ran 
away with the linen and the twelve small forks, out of the 
question, of course. It will be a comfort to you, my dear 
Nicholas, to recollect how kind and good you always were 
to him. It w r as very natural you should have been attached 
to him, my dear — very — and, of course, you were, and are 
very much cut up by this. I am sure it’s only necessary to 
look at you and see how changed you are, to see that; but 
nobody knows what my feelings are — nobody can.” 

While Mrs. Nickleby gave vent to her sorrows after her 
own peculiar fashion of considering herself foremost, Kate, 
although well accustomed to forget herself when others were 
to be considered, could not repress her grief. Madeline was 


562 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

scarcely less moved than she; and poor, hearty little Miss La 
Creevy, who had come up on one of her visits while Nicholas 
was away, no sooner beheld him coming in at the door than 
she sat herself down upon the stairs and, bursting into a 
flood of tears, refused for a long time to be comforted. 

“ It hurts me so,” cried the poor body, “ to see him come 
back alone. I can’t help thinking what he must have suffered 
himself. I wouldn’t mind so much if he gave way a little 
more, but he bears it so manfully.” 

“ Why, so I should, shouldn’t I?” said Nicholas. 

“ Yes, yes, and bless you for a good creature; but this does 
seem to a simple soul like me such a poor reward for all you 
have done.” 

“ Why,” said Nicholas, gently, “ what better reward could 
I have than the knowledge that his last days were peaceful 
and happy and the recollection that I was his constant com¬ 
panion and was not prevented from being beside him.” 

“ To be sure,” sobbed Miss La Creevy; “it’s very true, 
and I’m ungrateful, I know.” 

Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed 
again, Nicholas, who stood in need of rest, retired to his own 
room and, throwing himself, dressed as he was, upon the 
bed, fell into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he found 
Kate sitting by his bedside, who, seeing that he had opened 
his eyes, stooped down to kiss him, saying: 

“ I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home again.” 

“ But I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate.” 

“ We have been wearying so for your return; mama and 
I, and — Madeline.” 

“ You said in your last letter that she was quite well,” said 
Nicholas, rather hastily and colouring as he spoke. “ Has 
nothing been said since I have been away about any future 
arrangements that the brothers have in contemplation for 
her?” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 563 

“ Oh, not a word. I can’t think of parting from her without 
sorrow; and surely, Nicholas, you don’t wish it! ” 

“ No, Kate; no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my 
real feelings from anybody but you; but I will tell you that 
— briefly and plainly, Kate — I love her.” 

Kate’s eyes brightened, and she was going to make some 
reply when Nicholas laid his hand upon her arm and went 
on: 

“ Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all.” 

“ Dear Nicholas! ” 

“ Last of all; never, though never is a long day. No, Kate! 
Since I have been absent, I have had perpetually before my 
eyes, the munificent liberality of these noble brothers. As 
far as in me lies, I will deserve it. If I have wavered in my 
duty to them before, I am now determined to discharge it 
rigidly and to put further delays and temptations beyond my 
reach.” 

“ Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,” said Kate, 
turning pale, “ you must hear what I have to tell you. I 
came on purpose, but I had not the courage. What you say 
now gives me new heart.” She faltered and seemed unable 
to express what she wished to say. 

There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas 
for what was coming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears 
prevented her. 

“ Come, you foolish girl. Why, Kate, Kate, be a woman! 
I think I know what you would tell me. It concerns Mr. 
Frank, doesn’t it ? ” 

Kate sank her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out, 
“ Yes.” 

“ And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since I have 
been away; is that it? Yes. Well, well; it’s not so difficult, 
you see, to tell me, after all. He offered you his hand ? ” 

“ Which I refused,” said Kate. 


564 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“Yes; and why? ” 

“ I told him,” she said, in a trembling voice, “ all that I 
have since found you told mama; and while I could not 
conceal from him, and cannot from you, that — that it was 
a pang and a great trial, I did so firmly and begged him not 
to see me any more.” 

“ That’s my own brave Kate! ” said Nicholas, pressing her 
to his breast. “ I knew you would.” 

“He tried to alter my resolution and declared that he 
would not only inform his uncles of the step he had taken, 
but would tell you, as soon as you returned. I am afraid,” 
she added, her momentary composure forsaking her, “ I am 
afraid I may not have said strongly enough how deeply I 
felt such disinterested love and how earnestly I prayed for 
his future happiness. If you do talk together, I should — I 
should like him to know that.” 

“And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this 
sacrifice to what you knew was right and honourable, that I 
should shrink from mine?” said Nicholas tenderly. 

“ Oh, no! not if your position had been the same, but-” 

“ But it is the same,” interrupted Nicholas. “ Madeline 
is not the near relation of our benefactors, but she is closely 
bound to them by ties as dear. I was first entrusted with 
her history because they placed unbounded confidence in 
me and believed that I was as true as steel. How base it 
would be of me to take advantage of the circumstances that 
placed her here. I have determined to remove this weight 
from my mind. I doubt whether I have not done wrong, 
even now. Today I shall disclose my real reasons to Mr. 
Cheeryble and ask him to take measures for removing this 
young lady to the shelter of some other roof.” 

“ Today ? So very soon! ” 

“ I have thought of this for weeks, and why should I post¬ 
pone it? You would not dissuade me, Kate, would you? ” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


565 


“ You may grow rich yourself, some time, Nicholas” 

“ Yes, I may grow rich-” repeated her brother with 

a mournful smile, “ and I may grow old! But rich or poor, 
old or young, you and I will ever be the same to each other, 
and in that our comfort lies. Don’t you think I shall be 
doing right, Kate ? ” 

“ Quite, quite right, dear brother; and I cannot tell you 
how happy I am that I have acted as you would have had me.” 

“ You don’t regret? ” 

“N — n — no,” said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern 
upon the ground with her foot. “ I don’t regret having done 
what was honourable and right, of course; but I do regret 
that it should ever have happened — at least, sometimes I 
regret it, and sometimes I — I don’t know what I say. I am 
but a weak girl, Nicholas, and it has agitated me very much.” 

If Nicholas had had ten thousand pounds at the minute, 
he would, in his generous affection, have given it all to his 
sister. But all he could do was to comfort and console her 
by kind words; and words they were of such love and cheer¬ 
ful encouragement that Kate threw her arms about his neck 
and declared she would weep no more. 

“ What man,” thought Nicholas proudly, while on his 
way soon afterwards to the brothers’ house, “ would not be 
sufficiently rewarded for any sacrifice of fortune, by the pos¬ 
session of such a heart as Kate’s, which is beyond all praise. 
Frank has money and wants no more. Where would it buy 
him such a treasure as Kate! And yet, in unequal marriages, 
the rich person is always supposed to make a great sacrifice, 
and the other to get a good bargain! But I am thinking like 
a lover, or like an ass: which I suppose is pretty nearly the 
same thing.” 

Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on 
which he was bound, he proceeded on his way and presented 
himself before Tim Linkinwater. 


566 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


• 

“Ah! Mr. Nickleby! God bless you! How d’ye do! 
Well? Say you’re quite well and never better. Do now.” 

“ Quite well,” said Nicholas, shaking him by both hands. 

“ Ah! you look tired, though, now I come to look at you. 
I didn’t mean to ask you, but I should like to hear a few 
particulars about that poor boy. Did he mention Cheeryble 
Brothers at all? ” 

“ Yes, many and many a time.” 

“ That was right of him,” returned Tim, wiping his eyes; 
“ that was very right of him.” 

“ And he mentioned your name a score of times, and often 
told me to carry back his love to Mr. Linkinwater.” 

“ No, no, did he though? ” rejoined Tim, sobbing outright. 
“ Poor fellow! I wish we could have had him buried in 
town. And he sent his love to me, did he? I didn’t expect 
he would have thought of me. Poor fellow, poor fellow I His 
love, too! ” 

Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of 
recollection that he was quite unequal to any more conver¬ 
sation at the moment. Nicholas therefore slipped quietly 
out and went to Brother Charles’s room. 

The warm welcome, the hearty manner, the unaffected 
commiseration of the good old merchant went to' his heart, 
and he could not help showing it. For a few moments he 
could not speak. 

“ Come, come, my dear sir,” said Brother Charles at length, 
“we must not be cast down. No, no! We must learn to 
bear misfortune, and we must remember that there are many 
sources of consolation even in death. Every day that this 
poor lad had lived he must have been less and less qualified 
for the world and more and more unhappy in his own 
deficiencies. It is better as it is, my dear sir. Yes, yes, yes, 
it’s better as it is.” 

“ I have thought of all that, sir, I assure you,” replied 
Nicholas. 


567 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Yes, that’s well, that’s well. — Where is my brother Ned, 
Tim Linkinwater ? ” 

“ Gone out to see about getting that unfortunate man into 
the hospital and sending a nurse to his children,” said Tim. 

“My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow! ” ex¬ 
claimed Brother Charles as he shut the door and returned to 
Nicholas. “ He will be overjoyed to see you. We have 
been speaking of you every day.” 

“ To tell you the truth I am glad to find you alone,” said 
Nicholas, with some natural hesitation; “ for I am anxious 
to say something to you. Can you spare me a very few 
minutes ? ” 

“ Surely, surely. Say on, my dear sir, say on.” 

“ I scarcely know how or where to begin. If ever a person 
had reason to love and reverence another with such attach¬ 
ment as would make the hardest service a pleasure and a 
delight, that is the feeling which I should have for you, and 
do, from my heart and soul.” 

“ I believe you, and I am happy in the belief. I have 
never doubted it; I never shall. I am sure I never shall.” 

“ Your telling me that so kindly emboldens me to proceed. 
When you first told me about Miss Bray, I should have told 
you that I had seen her long before; that she had made an 
impression upon me which I could not efface, and that I had 
fruitlessly endeavoured to find her and become acquainted 
with her. I did not tell you about this, because I thought I 
should be able to conquer my own feelings and only think 
of my duty to you.” 

“ Mr. Nickleby, you did not violate the confidence I placed 
in you, or take an unworthy advantage of it. I am sure you 
did not.” 

“ I did not, although I found that the necessity for self- 
command and restraint became greater every day. I never 
for one instant deserted my trust, nor have I to this time. 
I never for one instant spoke or looked but as I would have 


568 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


done had you been by. But I find that constant association 
with this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind. In fact 
I am afraid I might not be able longer to keep my feeling 
unknown to her, and I ask you to remove this young lady from 
under the charge of my mother and sister without delay. 
Who can see her as I have seen, who can know what her life 
has been, and not love her ? I have no excuse but that; and 
as I cannot fly from this temptation, and cannot repress this 
love with its object constantly before me, what can I do but 
ask you to remove it and to leave me to forget her! ” 

“ Mr. Nickleby, you can do no more. I was wrong to 
expose a young man like you to this trial. I might have 
foreseen what would happen. Thank you, sir, thank you. 
Madeline shall be removed,” said the old merchant. 

“ If you would grant me one favour, by never revealing to 

her this confession, so she would still remember me with-” 

“ I will take care. And is this all you have to tell me? ” 

“ No! ” returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, “ it is not.” 

“ I know the rest, which concerns Frank,” said Mr. Cheery- 
ble, apparently much relieved by this prompt reply. “ When 
did it come to your knowledge ? ” 

“ When I reached home this morning.” 

“ You felt it your duty immediately to come to me and 
tell me what your sister, no doubt, acquainted you with ? ” 
“ I did, though I could have wished to have spoken to 
Mr. Frank first.” 

“ Frank told me last night. You have done well, Mr. 
Nickleby — very well — and I thank you again.” 

Nicholas requested permission to add a few words. He 
hoped that nothing he had said would lead to the estrange¬ 
ment of Kate and Madeline, who had formed an attachment 
for each other. When these-things were all forgotten, he 
hoped that Frank and he might still be warm friends. 

* * * 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


569 


Creeping from the house and slinking off like a thief, Ralph 
Nickleby left the City behind him, and took the road to his 
own home. The night was dark, and a cold wind blew, driving 
the clouds furiously and fast before it. There was one black 
gloomy mass that seemed to follow him. He often looked 
back at this and, more than once, stopped to let it pass over; 
but somehow, when he went forward again, it was still behind 
him, coming mournfully and slowly up, like a shadowy 
funeral train. 

As he drew nearer and nearer home, he began to think how 
very dull and solitary the house would be inside. This 
feeling became so strong at last that, when he reached his 
own door, he could hardly make up his mind to turn the 
key and open it. When he had done that and gone into the 
passage, he felt as though to shut it again would be to shut 
out the world. But he let it go, and it closed with a loud noise. 
There was no light. How very dreary, cold, and still it was! 

Shivering from head to foot, he made his way upstairs 
into the room where he had been last disturbed. He had 
made a kind of compact with himself that he would not 
think of what had happened until he got home. He was at 
home now and allowed himself to consider it. 

His own child, his own child! He never doubted the tale; 
he felt it was true. His own child, and dead too. Dying 
beside Nicholas, loving him, and looking upon him as some¬ 
thing like an angel! That was the worst. 

They had all turned from him and deserted him in his 
very first need. Even money could not buy them now. 
Everything must come out, and everybody must know all. 

If he had known his child to be alive; if no deceit had ever 
been practised, and he had grown up beneath his eye, he 
might have been a careless, indifferent, rough, harsh father, 
but he might have been otherwise, and his son might have 
been a comfort to him and they two happy together. He 


570 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


began to think now that his supposed death and his wife’s 
flight had had some share in making him the morose, hard 
man he was. He seemed to remember a time when he was 
not quite so rough and obdurate. His hatred of Nicholas 
had been fed upon his own defeat. There were reasons for 
its increase; it had grown and strengthened gradually. Now 
it attained a height which was sheer, wild lunacy. That his, 
of all others, should have been the hands to rescue his miser¬ 
able child; that he should have been his protector and faith¬ 
ful friend; that he should have shown him that love and 
tenderness which, from the wretched moment of his birth, 
he had never known; that Nicholas should have taught him 
to hate his own parent and execrate his very name; that he 
should now know and feel all this, and triumph in the recollec¬ 
tion was gall and madness to the usurer’s heart. The dead 
boy’s love for Nicholas and the attachment of Nicholas for 
him were insupportable agony. The picture of his deathbed, 
with Nicholas at his side, tending and supporting him, and 
he breathing out his thanks and expiring in his arms, when 
he would have had them mortal enemies and hating each other 
to the last, drove him frantic. He gnashed his teeth and 
smote the air and, looking wildly round with eyes which 
gleamed through the darkness, cried aloud: 

“ I am trampled down and ruined. The wretch told me 
true. The night has come! Is there no way to rob them 
of further triumph and spurn their mercy and compassion? 
Is there no devil to help me?” 

He spoke no more but, after a pause, softly groped his 
way out of the room and up the echoing stairs — up to the 
top — to the front garret — where he closed the door behind 
him and remained. 

It was a mere lumber room now, but it yet contained an 
old bedstead, the one on which his son had slept. He avoided 
it hastily and sat down as far from it as he could. 


571 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

By the glare of the lights in the streets below could be seen 
old corded trunks and broken furniture scattered about. The 
room had a shelving roof, high in one part, and at another 
descending almost to the floor. It was towards the highest 
part that Ralph directed his eyes, and upon it he kept them 
fixed steadily for some minutes. Then he rose and, dragging 
thither an old chest upon which he had been seated, mounted 
on it and felt along the wall above his head with both hands. 
At length they touched a large iron hook, firmly driven into 
one of the beams. 

At that moment he was interrupted by a loud knocking 
at the door below. After a little hesitation, he opened the 
window and demanded who it was. 

“I wan t Mr. Nickleby,” replied a voice. 

“ What with him ? ” 

“That’s not. Mr. Nickleby’s voice, surely?” was the 
rejoinder. 

It was not like it, but it was Ralph who spoke, and so he 
said. 

The voice made answer that the twin brothers wished 
to know whether the man Brooker, whom he had seen that 
night, was to be detained; and although it was now midnight 
they had sent for an answer, in their anxiety to do right. 

“Yes,” cried Ralph, “detain him till tomorrow; then let 
them bring him here — him and my nephew — and come 
themselves, and be sure that I will be ready to receive 
them.” 

“ At what hour? ” 

“At any hour,” replied Ralph fiercely. “In the after¬ 
noon, tell them. At any hour, at any minute. All times will 
be alike to me.” 

He listened to the man’s retreating footsteps, until the 
sound had passed, and then gazing up into the sky, saw, or 
thought he saw, the same black cloud that had seemed to fol- 


572 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

low him home and which now appeared to hover directly above 

the house. 

“ I know its meaning now,” he muttered, “ and the rest¬ 
less nights, the dreams, all pointed to this. Oh! if men by 
selling their souls could ride rampant, for how short a term 
would I barter mine tonight! ” 

The sound of a deep bell came along the wind. 

“ Lie on,” cried the usurer, “ with your iron tongue! Ring 
merrily! Call men to prayers who are godly because not 
found out, and ring chimes for the coming of every year 
that brings this cursed world nearer to its end. No bell or 
book for me! ” 

With a wild look around, in which frenzy, hatred, and 
despair were horribly mingled, he shook his clenched hand 
at the sky above him, which was still dark and threatening, 
and closed the window. 

The rain and hail pattered against the glass; the chimneys 
quaked and rocked; the crazy casement rattled with the 
wind as though an impatient hand inside were striving to 
burst it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no 
more. 

* * * 

“ How’s this? ” cried one. “ The gentlemen say they can t 
make anybody hear and have been trying these two hours. 

“ And yet he came home last night,” said another. “ For 
he spoke to somebody out of that window upstairs. 

They were a little knot of men and, the window being 
mentioned, went out in the road to look at it. The house 
was close shut and led to a great many suggestions which 
ended in two or three of the boldest getting round to the 
back and entering by a window. The others remained out¬ 
side in impatient expectation. 

They looked into all the rooms below, opening the shutters 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


573 


as they went to admit the fading light and, still finding 
nobody and everything quiet and in its place, doubted whether 
they should go further. One man, however, remarking that 
they had not yet been into the garret and that it was there 
he had been last seen, they agreed to look there, too, and 
went up softly; for the mystery and silence made them 
timid. 

After they had stood for an instant on the landing, he 
who had proposed carrying the search so far, turned the 
handle of the door, and, pushing it open, looked through the 
chink, and fell back directly. 

“ It’s very odd,” he whispered; “ he’s hiding behind the 
door! Look! ” 

They pressed forward to see; but one among them, thrust¬ 
ing the others aside with a loud exclamation, drew a knife 
from his pocket and dashing into the room cut down the 
body of Ralph Nickleby. He had tom a rope from one of 
the old trunks and hanged himself on an iron hook below 
the trap door in the ceiling — in the very place to which 
the eyes of his son, a lonely desolate little creature, had so 
often been directed in childish terror fourteen years before. 


CHAPTER XLIII 

S OME weeks had passed, and the first shock of these events 
had subsided. Madeline had been removed; Frank had 
been absent; Nicholas and Kate had begun to try in good 
earnest to stifle their own regrets and to live for each other 
and for their mother — who, poor lady^ could not be reconciled 
to this dull and altered state of affairs — when there came one 
evening, per favour of Mr. Linkinwater, an invitation from 
the brothers to dinner on the next day but one, including not 


574 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


only Mrs. Nickleby, Kate, and Nicholas, but little Miss La 
Creevy, who was most particularly mentioned. 

The great day arriving, Mrs. Nickleby, very much excited, 
put herself under Kate’s hands an hour or so after breakfast 
and, being made ready by easy stages, completed her dress¬ 
ing in sufficient time to allow her daughter to do her own, 
which was very simple and not very long, though so satisfac¬ 
tory that she had never appeared more charming or looked 
more lovely. Miss La Creevy, too, arrived with two hand- 
boxes (whereof the bottoms fell out as they were handed 
from the coach) and something in a newspaper, which a 
gentleman had sat upon coming down and which was obliged 
to be ironed again before it was fit for service. At last, every¬ 
body was dressed, including Nicholas, who had come home 
early to take them, and they went away in a coach sent by 
the brothers for the purpose. 

The old butler received them with respect and many smiles, 
and ushered them into the drawing-room, where they were 
received by the brothers with so much cordiality and kind¬ 
ness that Mrs. Nickleby was quite in a flutter. Kate was 
still more affected by the reception, knowing that the brothers 
were acquainted with all that had passed between her and 
Frank. She was trembling on the arm of Nicholas, when 
Mr. Charles placed her hand within his own arm and led 
her to another part of the room, saying: 

“ Have you seen Madeline, my dear, since she left your 
house ? ” 

“No sir! Not once!” 

“And not heard from her, eh? Not heard from her?” 

“ I have only had one letter,” rejoined Kate, gently. “ I 
thought she would not. have forgotten me quite so soon.” 

“ Ah! ” said the old gentleman, patting her on the head 
and speaking as affectionately as if she had been his favourite 
child. “ Poor dear! What do you think of this, Brother 
Ned? Madeline has only written to her once, only once, 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 575 

Ned, and she didn’t think she would have forgotten her quite 
so soon.” 

“ Oh! sad, sad, very sad! ” said Ned. 

The brothers interchanged a glance and, looking at Kate 
for a little time without speaking, shook hands and nodded 
as if they were congratulating each other on something very 
delightful. 

“ Weh, well,” said Brother Charles, “ go into that room, 
my dear — that door yonder — and see if there’s not a letter 
for you from her. I think there’s one upon the table. You 
needn’t hurry back, my love, if there is, for we don’t dine 
just yet, and there’s plenty of time. Plenty of time.” 

Kate went in as she was directed. Brother Charles, having 
followed her graceful figure with his eyes, turned to Mrs. 
Nickleby and said: 

We took the liberty of naming one hour before the 
real dinner-time because we had a little business to speak 
about. Ned, my dear fellow, will mention what we agreed 
upon. Mr. Nickleby, please have the goodness to follow 
me.” 

Without any further explanation, Mrs. Nickleby, Miss 
La Creevy, and Brother Ned, were left alone together, and 
Nicholas followed Brother Charles into his private room, 
where to his great astonishment he encountered Frank, whom 
he supposed to be abroad. 

“ Young men,” said Mr. Cheeryble, “ shake hands! ” 

11 1 need no bidding to do that,” said Nicholas, extending 
his. 

“ Nor I,” rejoined Frank, as he clasped it heartily. 

The old gentleman thought that two finer young fellows 
could scarcely stand side by side than those to whom he 
looked with so much pleasure. He thought of that future 
time when the firm would be Cheeryble and Nickleby. 
Allowing his eyes to rest upon them for a short time in silence, 
he said, while he seated himself at his desk: 


576 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“I wish to see you friends — close and firm friends —and 
if I thought you otherwise, I should hesitate in what I am 
about to say. Frank, look here. Mr. Nickleby, will you 
come on the other side ? ” 

The young men stepped up on either hand of Brother 
Charles, who produced a paper from his desk and, unfolding 
it, said: 

“ This is a copy of the will of Madeline’s maternal grand¬ 
father, bequeathing her the sum of twelve thousand pounds, 
payable either upon her coming of age or marrying. Made¬ 
line has obtained her right, and is, or will be, mistress of this 
fortune. You understand me?” 

Frank replied in the affirmative. Nicholas, who could 
not trust himself to speak lest his voice should be heard to 
falter, bowed his head. 

“Now, Frank,” said the old gentleman, “you were the 
means of recovering this deed. The fortune is but a small 
one; but we love Madeline, and such as it is we would rather 
see you allied to her with that than to any other girl we 
know who has three times the money. Will you become 
a suitor to her for her hand? ” 

“No, sir. I worked to get that deed believing she was 
already promised to one who had a thousand times the claims 
upon her gratitude, and, if I mistake not, upon her heart, 
than I or any other man can ever urge. In this it seems I 
judged hastily.” 

“ As you always do,” cried Brother Charles, utterly for¬ 
getting his assumed dignity, “ as you always do. How dare 
you think, Frank, that we would have you marry for money, 
when youth, beauty, and every amiable virtue and excellence 
were to be had for love? How dared you, Frank, go and 
make love to Mr. Nickleby’s sister without telling us first 
what you meant to do and letting us speak for you ? ” 

“ I hardly dared to hope-” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


577 


“ You hardly dared to hope! Then, so much the greater 
reason for having our assistance! Mr. Nickleby, Frank, 
although he judged hastily, judged for once correctly. 
Madeline’s heart is occupied. Give me your hand; it is 
occupied by you, and worthily and naturally. This fortune 
is destined to be yours, but you have a greater fortune in 
her than you would have in money were it forty times as 
much. She chooses you, Mr. Nickleby. She chooses as we, 
her dearest friends, wmuld have her choose. Frank chooses 
as we would have him choose. He should have your sister’s 
hand if she had refused it twenty times. He should and he 
shall! You acted nobly, not knowing our sentiments; but 
now you know them, you must do as you are bid. Why! 
You are the children of a worthy gentleman! The time was 
when my dear brother Ned and I were two poor simple- 
hearted boys, wandering almost barefoot to seek our fortunes. 
Are we changed in anything but years and worldly circum¬ 
stances since that time? No, God forbid! Oh, Ned, Ned, 
what a happy day this is for you and me! If our poor 
mother had only lived to see us now, how proud it would 
have made her dear heart at last! ” 

Brother Ned, who had entered with Mrs. Nickleby, darted 
forward and fairly hugged Brother Charles in his arms. 

“ Bring in my little Kate,” said Brother Charles, after a 
short silence. “ Bring her in, Ned. Let me see Kate; let 
me kiss her. I have a right to do so now; I was very near 
it when she first came. Ah, did you find the letter, my bird? 
Did you find Madeline herself waiting for you and expecting 
you? Did you find that she had not quite forgotten her 
friend and nurse and sweet companion? Why, this is almost 
the best of all! ” 

“ Come, come,” said Ned. “ Frank will be jealous, and we 
shall have some cutting of throats before dinner.” 

“ Then let him take her away, Ned; let him take her away. 


578 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Madeline’s in the next room. Let all the lovers get out of 
the way and talk among themselves, if they’ve anything to 
say. Turn ’em out, Ned, every one! ” 

Brother Charles began the clearance by leading the blush¬ 
ing girl to the door and dismissing her with a kiss. Frank 
was not very slow to follow, and Nicholas had disappeared 
first of all. So there only remained Mrs. Nickleby and Miss 
La Creevy, who were both sobbing heartily, the two brothers, 
and Tim Linkinwater, who came in to shake hands with every¬ 
body, his round face all radiant and beaming with smiles. 

“ Well, Tim Linkinwater,” said Brother Charles, who was 
always spokesman, “now the young folks are happy, sir.” 

“ You didn’t keep ’em in suspense as long as you said you 
would, though,” returned Tim. “ Why, Mr. Nickleby and 
Mr. Frank were to have been in your room for I don’t know 
how long, and I don’t know what you weren’t to have told 
them before you came out with the truth.” 

“ Now did you ever know such a villain as this, Ned ? Did 
you ever know such a villain as Tim Linkinwater? He 
accusing me of being impatient and he the very man wearying 
us morning, noon, and night, and torturing us for leave to 
go and tell ’em what was in store, before our plans were half 
complete, or we had arranged a single thing.. A treacherous 
dog! ” 

“So he is, Brother Charles. Tim is a treacherous dog. 
Tim is not to be trusted. Tim is a wild young fellow. He 
wants gravity and steadiness; he must sow his wild oats, 
and then perhaps he’ll become in time a respectable member 
of society.” 

This being one of the standing jokes between the old fellows 
and Tim, they all three laughed very heartily and might have 
laughed much longer if the brothers, seeing that Mrs. Nickleby 
was labouring to express her feelings and was really over¬ 
whelmed by the happiness of the time, had not taken her 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


579 


between them, and led her from the room under pretence of 
having to consult her on some most important arrangements. 

Now Tim and Miss La Creevy had met very often, and 
had always been chatty and pleasant together — had always 
been great friends; consequently, it was the most natural thing 
in the world that Tim, finding that she still sobbed, should 
endeavour to console her. As Miss La Creevy sat on an 
old-fashioned window seat, where there was ample room 
for two, it was also natural that Tim should sit down beside 
her; and as to Tim’s being unusually spruce and particular 
in his attire that day, why it was a high festival and a great 
occasion, and that was the most natural thing of all. 

Tim sat down beside Miss La Creevy, and said in a sooth¬ 
ing way: 

“ Don’t cry! ” 

“ I must.” 

“ No, don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.” 

“ I am so happy,” sobbed the little woman. 

“ Then laugh,” said Tim. “ Do laugh.” 

What in the world Tim was doing with his arm, it is im¬ 
possible to conjecture; but he knocked his elbow against 
that part of the window which was quite on the other side 
of Miss La Creevy; and it is clear that it could have no 
business there. 

“ Do laugh,” said Tim, “ or I’ll cry.” 

“ Why should you cry? ” asked Miss La Creevy, smiling. 

“ Because I’m happy too. We are both happy, and I 
should like to do as you do.” 

Surely, there never was a man who fidgeted as Tim must 
have done then; for he knocked the window again — almost 
in the same place — and Miss La Creevy said she was sure 
he’d break it. 

“ I knew that you would be pleased with this scene,” said 
Tim. 


580 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“It was very thoughtful and kind to remember me. 
Nothing could have delighted me half so much.” 

“ It’s a pleasant thing to people like us, who have passed 
all our lives in the world alone, to see young folks that we 
are fond of brought together with so many years of happiness 
before them,” said Tim. 

“ Ah, that it is! ” cried the little woman with all her heart. 

“ Although,” pursued Tim, “although it makes one feel 
quite solitary and cast away. Now don’t it? ” 

Miss La Creevy said she didn’t know. 

“It’s almost enough to make us get married after all, 
isn’t it? ” said Tim. 

“ Oh, nonsense! ” replied Miss La Creevy, laughing. “ We 
are too old.” 

“ Not a bit. We are too old to be single. Why shouldn’t 
we both be married instead of sitting through the long winter 
evenings by our solitary firesides? Why shouldn’t we make 
one fireside of it, and marry each other? ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Linkinwater, you’re joking! ” 

“ No, no, I’m not. I’m not indeed,” said Tim. “ I will, 
if you will. Do, my dear! ” 

“ It would make people laugh so.” 

“ Let ’em laugh. We have good tempers, I know, and we’ll 
laugh too. Why, what hearty laughs we have had since 
we’ve known each other! ” 

“ So we have,” cried Miss La Creevy — giving way a little, 
as Tim thought. 

“ It has been the happiest time in all my life; at least away 
from the counting-house and Cheeryble Brothers,” said Tim. 
“Do, my dear! Now say you will,” 

“ No, no, we mustn’t think of it,” returned Miss La Creevy, 
“ What would the brothers say? ” 

“Why God bless your soul!. ” cried Tim, innocently, “ you 
don’t suppose I should think of such a thing without their 
knowing it! Why, they left us here on purpose.” 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 581 

“ I can never look them in the face again! ” exclaimed Miss 
La Creevy, faintly. 

“Come!” said Tim. “Let’s be a comfortable couple. 
We shall live in the old house here, where I have been for 
four-and-forty years. We shall go to the old church, where 
I’ve been every Sunday morning all through that time. 
Let’s be a comfortable couple and take care of each other! 
Now do, my dear! ” 

Five minutes after this honest and straightforward speech, 
little Miss La Creevy and Tim were talking as pleasantly 
as if they had been married for a score of years and had 
never once quarrelled in all that time; and five minutes after 
that, when Miss La Creevy had bustled out to see if her 
eyes were red and to put her hair to rights, Tim moved with 
a stately step towards the drawing-room, exclaiming as he 
went: 

“ There ain’t such another woman in all London! I know 
there ain’t! ” 

By this time the apoplectic butler was nearly in fits, in 
consequence of the unheard of postponement of dinner. 
Nicholas, who had been engaged in a manner in which every 
reader may imagine for himself or herself, was hurrying 
downstairs in obedience to his angry summons, when he en¬ 
countered a new surprise. 

On his way down, he overtook a stranger genteelly dressed 
in black, who was also moving towards the dining room. As 
he was rather lame and walked slowly, Nicholas lingered 
behind, and was following him step by step, wondering who 
he was, when he suddenly turned round and caught him by 
both hands. 

“ Newman Noggs! ” cried Nicholas joyfully. 

“Ah, Newman, your own Newman, your own old faith¬ 
ful Newman! My dear boy, my dear Nick, I give you joy 
--health, happiness, every blessing! I can’t bear it it’s 
too njuch, my dear boy — it makes a child of me! ” 


582 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


“ Where have you been ? What have you been doing ? ” 
said Nicholas. “ How often have I enquired for you and 
been told that I should hear before long.” 

“I know, I know! ” returned Newman. “They wanted 
all the happiness to come together. IVe been helping them. 
I — I — look at me, Nick. Look at me! ” 

“ You wouldn’t let me do that for you,” said Nicholas, in 
a tone of gentle reproach, looking at the splendid clothes 
Newman wore. 

“ I didn’t mind what I was then. I shouldn’t have had 
the heart to put on gentleman’s clothes. They would have 
reminded me of old times and made me miserable. I am 
another man now, Nick. My dear boy, I can’t speak. Don’t 
say anything to me. Don’t think the worse of me for these 
tears. You don’t know what I feel today; you can’t and 
never will! ” 

They walked in to dinner, arm in arm, and sat down side 
by side. 


CHAPTER XLIV 


CHOLAS was one of those whose joy is not complete 



rs unless it is shared by the friends of less fortunate days. 
Surrounded by every fascination of love and hope, his warm 
heart yearned towards plain John Browdie. He remembered 
their first meeting with a smile, and their second with a tear, 
saw poor Smike once again with the bundle on his shoulder, 
trudging patiently by his side, and heard the honest York- 
shireman’s rough words of encouragement as he left him on 
his road to London. 

Madeline and he sat down very many times to write a 
letter which should acquaint John Browdie with his good 
fortune and assure him of his friendship and gratitude. It 
so happened, however, that the letter could never be written. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


583 


Although they applied themselves to it with the best inten¬ 
tions in the world, it chanced that they always fell to talking 
about something else; and when Nicholas tried it by him¬ 
self, he found it impossible to write one-half of what he wished 
to say. At last he resolved to make a hasty trip into York¬ 
shire and present himself before Mr. and Mrs. Browdie 
without a word of notice. 

Thus it was that between seven and eight o’clock one 
evening he and Kate found themselves in the Saracen’s 
booking office, getting a place for Nicholas on the next day’s 
stagecoach. They had to procure some little necessaries for 
his journey; and as it was a fine night, they agreed to walk, 
and ride home. 

The Saracen’s Head Inn called up so many recollections, 
and Kate had so many anecdotes of Madeline, and Nicholas 
had so many anecdotes of Frank, and each was so interested 
in what the other said, and both were so happy and con¬ 
fiding, and had so much to talk about that it was not until 
they had plunged for a full half-hour into a labyrinth of streets 
without emerging into any large thoroughfare that Nicholas 
began to think it just possible they might have lost their 
way. 

He was soon sure of this. Looking about and walking first 
to one end of the street and then to the other, he found no 
landmark that he could recognise, and had to turn back again 
in search of some place where he could find out in which direc¬ 
tion to go. 

It was a by-street, and there was nobody about or in the 
few wretched shops they passed. Going towards a faint 
gleam of light, which streamed across the pavement from a 
cellar, Nicholas was about to descend two or three steps 
and make his enquiry when he was stopped by a loud noise 
of scolding in a woman’s voice. 

“ Oh come away! ” said Kate. “They are quarrelling. 
You’ll be hurt.” 


584 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

“ Wait one instant, Kate. Let us hear if there’s anything 
the matter. Hush! ” 

“ You nasty, idle, vicious, good-for-nothing brute,” cried 
the woman, stamping on the ground, “ why don’t you turn 
the mangle ? ” 

“ So I am, my life and soul! ” replied a man’s voice. “ I 
am always turning. I am perpetually turning, like a demd 
old horse in a demnition mill. My life is one demd horrid 
grind! ” 

“ Then why don’t you go and list for a soldier? You’re 
welcome to.” 

“ For a soldier! For a soldier! Would his joy and glad¬ 
ness see him in a coarse red coat with a little tail ? Would she 
hear of his being slapped and beat by drummers demnibly? 
Would she have him fire off real guns, and have his hair cut, 
and his whiskers shaved, and his trousers pipeclayed? ” 

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, “ you don’t know who 
that is. It’s Mr. Mantalini, I am confident.” 

“ Do make sure! Look at him while I ask the way. Come 
down a step or two. Come.” 

Drawing her after him, Nicholas crept down the steps and 
looked into a small boarded cellar. There amidst clothes 
baskets and clothes, stripped to his shirt sleeves, but wear¬ 
ing still an old patched pair of pantaloons of superlative 
make, a once brilliant waistcoat, and moustache and whiskers 
as of yore, but lacking their lustrous dye — there, endeavour¬ 
ing to mollify the wrath of a buxom female — not the lawful 
Madame Mantalini, but the proprietress of the concern — 
and grinding meanwhile as if for very life at the mangle, whose 
creaking noise, mingled with her shrill tones, appeared almost 
to deafen him — there was the graceful, elegant, fascinating, 
and once dashing Mantalini. 

“ Oh, you false traitor! ” cried the lady, threatening per¬ 
sonal violence on Mr. Mantalini’s face. 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


585 


“ False. Oh dem! Now my soul, my gentle, captivating, 
bewitching, and most demnebly enslaving chick-a-biddy, be 
calm,” said Mr. Mantalini, humbly. 

“ I won’t! ” screamed the woman, “ I’ll tear your eyes out! ” 
“ Oh! What a demd savage lamb! ” cried Mr. Manta¬ 
lini. 

“ You’re never to be trusted,” screamed the woman; “ you 
were out all day yesterday, and galavanting somewhere, I 
know. You know you were! Isn’t it enough that I paid 
two pound fourteen for you, and took you out of prison and 
let you live like a gentleman, but must you go on like this, 
breaking my heart besides ? ” 

“ I will never break its heart. I will be a good boy, and 
never do so any more; I will never be naughty again; I 
beg its little pardon,” said Mr. Mantalini, dropping the 
handle of the mangle and folding his palms together. “ It 
is all up with its handsome friend! He has gone to the 
demnition bow wows. It will have pity ? It will not scratch 
and claw, but pet and comfort? Oh, demmit.” 

Very little affected by this tender appeal, the lady was 
on the point of returning some angry reply, when Nicholas, 
raising his voice, asked his way to the street where he was 
going. 

Mr. Mantalini turned round, caught sight of Kate, and 
without another word, leapt at one bound into a bed which 
stood behind the door, and drew the counterpane over his 
face, kicking meanwhile convulsively. 

“ Demmit,” he cried in a suffocating voice, “ it’s little 
Nickleby! Shut the door, put out the candle, turn me up 
in the bedstead! Oh, dem, dem, dem! ” 

The woman looked first at Nicholas and then at Mr. 
Mantalini, as if uncertain on whom to visit this extraordinary 
behaviour; but Mr. Mantalini, happening by ill luck to thrust 
his nose from under the bedclothes in his anxiety to ascer- 


586 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


tain whether the visitors were gone, she suddenly, and with 
a dexterity which could only have been acquired by long 
practice, flung a pretty heavy clothes basket at him, with so 
good an aim that he kicked more violently than before, though 
without making any effort to disengage his head, which was 
quite extinguished. Thinking this a favourable opportunity 
for departing before any of her wrath discharged itself 
upon him, Nicholas hurried Kate off, and left the unfor¬ 
tunate subject of this unexpected recognition to explain his 
conduct as he best could. 

The next morning Nicholas began his journey. It was now 
cold winter weather — forcibly recalling to his mind under 
what circumstances he had first travelled that road. 

He slept at the inn at Greta Bridge on the night of his 
arrival and, rising at a very early hour the next morning, 
walked to the market town and inquired for John Browdie’s 
house. John lived in the outskirts, now he was a family 
man; and as everybody knew him, Nicholas had no difficulty 
in finding a boy who undertook to guide him to his resi¬ 
dence. 

Dismissing his guide at the gate and in his impatience not 
even stopping to admire the thriving look of cottage or 
garden either, Nicholas made his way to the kitchen door 
and knocked lustily with his stick. 

“Halloa! ” cried a voice inside. “What be the matther 
noo? Be the toon afire? Ding, but thou mak’st noise 
eneaf! ” 

With these words, John Browdie opened the door himself 
and, opening his eyes, too, to their utmost width, cried, as he 
clapped his hands together, and burst into a hearty roar: 

“ Ecod, Tilly, here be Misther Nickleby. Give us thee 
hond, mun. Coom awa’, coom awa\ In wi’ ’un, doon beside 
the fire; I might ha’ know’d that nobody but thou would 
ha’ coom wi’ slke a knock as yon. Ding! But I’m reeght 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


587 


glod to see thee.” John dragged Nicholas into the kitchen, 
forced him down upon a huge settle beside a blazing fire, 
and stood with a broad grin of welcome overspreading his 
great red face, like a jolly giant. “ But I say, waa’t be a’ 
this aboot schoolmeasther? ” he added, after more welcoming 
had been made happily and affectionately. 

“You know it then?” said Nicholas. 

“ They were talking aboot it, doon toon, last neeght, but 
neane on ’em seemed quite to un’erstan’ it loike.” 

“ Squeers has been sentenced to be transported for seven 
years, for being in the unlawful possession of a stolen will; 
and after that, he has to suffer the consequences of being in a 
conspiracy. Peg Sliderskew received the same sentence.” 

“ Whew! A conspiracy! Explain it arter breakfast, not 
noo, for thou bee’st hoongry, and so am I; and Tilly she 
mun be at the bottom o’ a’ explanations, for she says thot’s 
the mutual confidence. Ha, ha, ha! Ecod! It’s a room 
start, is the mutual confidence! Ding! But I’m reeght 
glod to see thee.” 

The entrance of Mrs. Browdie with a smart cap on and 
very many apologies for their having been detected in the 
act of breakfasting in the kitchen stopped John in any more 
discussion, and hastened the breakfast, which was composed 
of mounds of toast, fresh eggs, boiled ham, Yorkshire pie, 
and other cold substantials. At last it came to a close, and a 
fire having been lighted in the best parlour, they adjourned 
thither to hear what Nicholas had to tell. 

Nicholas told them all, and never was there a story which 
awakened so many emotions in the breasts of two eager 
listeners. At one time honest John groaned in sympathy, 
and at another roared with joy. At one time he vowed to 
go up to London to get a sight of the Brothers Cheeryble; 
at another swore that Tim Linkinwater should receive such 
a ham by coach as mortal knife had never carved. When 


588 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Nicholas began to describe Madeline, he sat with his mouth 
wide open, nudging Mrs. Browdie from time to time and 
exclaiming under his breath that she must be “ raa’ther a 
tidy sart,” and when he heard at last that his young friend 
had come down purposely to communicate his good fortune 
and to convey to him all those assurances of friendship which 
he could not state with sufficient warmth in writing — that 
the only object of his journey was to share his happiness 
with them and to tell them that when he was married, they 
must come up to see him, and that Madeline insisted on it 
as well as he — John could hold out no longer, but after 
looking indignantly at his wife and demanding to know 
what she was whimpering for, drew his coat sleeve over his 
eyes and cried outright. 

“ Tell ’ee waa’t, though,” said John, seriously, when a great 
deal had been said on both sides, “ to return to school- 
measther. If this news aboot ’un has reached school today, 
the old ’ooman wean’t have a whole boan in her boddy, nor 
Fanny neither.” 

“ Oh John! ” cried Mrs. Browdie. 

“Ah! and ‘ Oh John’ agean. I dinnot know what they 
lads mightn’t do. When it first got aboot that school- 
measther was in trouble, some feythers and moothers sent 
and took their young chaps awa’. If them as is left should 
know waa’ts coom tiv um, there’ll be sike a revolution and 
rebel! — Ding! But I think they’ll a’ gang daft, and spill 
bluid like wather! ” 

In fact, John Browdie’s apprehensions were so strong that 
he determined to ride over to the school without delay and 
invited Nicholas to accompany him, which, however, he 
declined, pleading that his presence might perhaps aggra¬ 
vate the bitterness of their adversary. 

“ Thot’s true! I should ne’er ha’ thought o’ thot.” 

“ I must return tomorrow, but I mean to dine with you 
today; and if Mrs. Browdie can give me a bed-” 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


589 


“Bed! ” cried John, “I wish thou could’st sleep in four 
beds at once. Ecod, thou should’st have ’em a’. Bide till 
I coom back; on’y bide till I coom back, and ecod, we’ll make 
a day of it! ” 

Giving his wife a hearty kiss and Nicholas a hearty shake 
of the hand, John mounted his horse and rode off, leaving 
Mrs. Browdie to apply herself to hospitable preparations and 
his young friend to stroll about the neighbourhood and revisit 
spots which were rendered familiar to him by many a miser¬ 
able association. 

John cantered away and, arriving at Dotheboys Hall, tied 
his horse to a gate. He made his way to the schoolroom door, 
which he found locked on the inside. A tremendous noise 
and riot arose from within, and looking through a crack in 
the wall, he saw the meaning of this. The news of Mr. 
Squeers’s downfall had reached Dotheboys; that was quite 
clear. It had probably just become known to the young 
gentlemen, for rebellion had just broken out. 

It was one of the brimstone-and-treacle mornings. Mrs. 
Squeers had entered the school with the large bowl and 
spoon, followed by Miss Squeers and the amiable Wackford, 
who, during his father’s absence, had taken upon himself such 
branches of the executive as kicking the pupils with his nailed 
boots, pulling the hair of some of the smaller boys, pinch¬ 
ing the others in aggravating places, and rendering himself 
in similar ways a great comfort and happiness to his mother. 
This morning their entrance was the signal of revolt. While 
one detachment rushed to the door and locked it and another 
mounted the desks and benches, the strongest bo} 7- (and 
consequently the newest) seized the cane and, confronting 
Mrs. Squeers with a stern countenance, snatched off her 
cap and beaver bonnet and put them on his own head. 
Then he armed himself with the wooden spoon and told her 
they would kill her if she did not get down on her knees and 
take a dose. Before that estimable lady could recover her- 


590 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


self, or offer the slightest retaliation, she was forced into a 
kneeling posture by a crowd of shouting tormentors and com¬ 
pelled to swallow a spoonful of the odious mixture, rendered 
more than usually savory by the immersion in the bowd of 
Mr. Wackford’s head, whose ducking was entrusted to 
another rebel. The success of this first achievement prompted 
the malicious crowd to further acts of outrage. The leader 
was insisting upon Mrs. Squeers repeating her dose, Mr. 
Wackford Squeers was undergoing another dip in the treacle, 
and a violent assault had been commenced on Miss Squeers, 
when John Browdie, bursting open the door with a vigorous 
kick, rushed to the rescue. The shouts, screams, groans, 
hoots, and clapping of hands suddenly ceased, and a dead 
silence ensued. 

“Ye be noice chaps,” said John, looking sternly round. 
“ Waat’s to do here, thou young dogs? ” 

“ Squeers is in prison, and we are going to run away! ” 
cried a score of shrill voices. “ We won’t stop, we won’t 
stop! ” 

“ Weel then, dinnot stop. Who waants thee to stop? 
Roon awa’ loike men, but dinnot hurt the women.” 

“ Hurrah! ” cried the shrill voices, more shrilly still. 

“Hurrah?” repeated John. “Weel, hurrah, loike men, 
too. Noo then, look out. Hip — hip — hip — hurrah! ” 

“ Hurrah! ” cried the voices. 

“Hurrah! Agean,” said John. “ Looder still.” 

The boys obeyed. 

“ Anoother! ” said John. “ Dinnot be afeared on it. Let’s 
have a good ’un! ” 

“ Hurrah! ” 

“ Noo then,” said John, “ let’s have yan more to end wi’, 
and then coot off as quick as you loike. ' Tak’ a good breath 
noo — Squeers be in jail — the school’s brokken oop — it’s 
a’ ower — past and gane — think o’ thot, and let it be a hearty 


591 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

Such a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys Hall had never 
echoed before, and were destined never to respond to again. 
When the sound had died away, the school was empty, and of 
the busy noisy crowd which had peopled it but five minutes 
before not one remained. 

1 Very well, Mr. Browdie! ” said Miss Squeers, hot and 
flushed from the recent encounter, but vixenish to the last; 
“ you’ve been and excited our boys to run away. Now see 
if we don’t pay you out for that! If my pa is unfortunate 
and trod down by henemies, we’re not going to be basely 
crowed and conquered over by you and ’Tilda! ” 

“ Noa! thou bean’t. Think better o’ us, Fanny. I tell 
ee both that I’m glad the auld man has been caught out at 
last —• dom’d glad — but ye’ll soofer eneaf wi’ out any 
crowin’ fra’ me, and I be not the mun to crow, nor be Tilly 
the lass, so I tell ’ee flat. More than that, I tell ’ee noo, 
that if thou need’st friends to help thee awa’ from this place 
dinnot turn up thy nose, Fanny, thou may’st — thou’lt 
foind Tilly and I wi’a thout o’ old times aboot us, ready to 
lend thee a hand. And when I say thot, dinnot think I be 
ashamed of wat I’ve done, for I say agean, ‘ Hurrah! And 
dom the schoolmeasther.’ There! ” 

His parting words concluded, John Browdie strode heavily 
out, remounted his nag, put him once more into a smart 
canter, and singing lustily some fragment of an old song to 
which the horse’s hoofs rang a merry accompaniment, sped 
back to his pretty wife and to Nicholas. For some weeks 
afterwards, the neighbouring country was overrun with boys, 
who, the report went, had been secretly furnished by Mr. 
and Mrs. Browdie not only with a hearty meal of bread and 
meat but with shillings and sixpences to help them on their 
way. 

In course of time Dotheboys Hall began to be forgotten 
by the neighbours or to be only spoken of as among things 
that had been. 


































I 
























QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 

DICKENS’S BIOGRAPHY 


1. Give a brief account of the life of this author, describing 
his childhood, youth, and later life. 2. Mention some of his 
works, telling some of the general characteristics of his writings. 
3. Compare his works with those of the present. 4. What was 
a great purpose of the author in writing this book? 5. What 
result was accomplished? 6. By what means did the author 
bring about the result he desired? 


CHAPTER I 

1. Write a theme of two hundred words containing these 
words, used in any order desired. Give this theme an appro¬ 
priate title. 


Ralph 

nephew 

Nicholas 

boys 

Mrs. Nickle¬ 

clerk 

letter 

dislike 

Kate 

by 

Nickleby 

Mr Squeers 

nineteen 

position 

splendid 

school 

Newman 

widow 

fortune 

affectionate 

Miss La 

Noggs 

brother 

beautiful 

hope 

Creevy 

assistance 

brave 

poor 

advertise¬ 

heartless 

promised 

death 

ment 


2. When this story began how old was Kate? 3. What was 
the occupation of Ralph Nickleby? 4. Is there such an occu¬ 
pation at the present time? 5. When is such an occupation 
to be condemned? 6. Is it ever right to make some one’s 
necessity your opportunity? Explain this. 

CHAPTERS II AND III 

1. Describe Mr. Squeers and his first pupil at the Saracen 
Hotel. 2. Describe the interview between Mr. Squeers and 
Mr. Snawley. 3. Describe the interview between Mr. Squeers, 
Nicholas, and his uncle. 4. Describe the departure of Nicholas 

593 


594 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


in the stage. 5. Who were the four people to see him go? 
6. What was given to Nicholas as he was about to leave? Why 
was Nicholas somewhat disappointed at this time? (Explain 
in four sentences.) 7. Describe the journey to Yorkshire. 


CHAPTER IV 


1. Write a summary of Chapter IV using these words: 


Greta Bridge 

Yorkshire 

weather 

baggage 

boys 


gate 

letters 

bed 

Smike 

towel 

mattress 

clothes 

drudge 

letter 

Mrs. Squeers 

meat 

Newman Noggs 

supper 

pie 

father 


2. Represent this chapter in a dramatic scene. 


CHAPTER V 

Feature this chapter as a motion picture with nine parts. 
I. Nicholas and Squeers in the bedroom of Nicholas (for one 
night). II. Mrs. Squeers hunting for the “ school spoon.” 
III. Nicholas and Squeers entering Dotheboys Hall. IV. Mrs. 
Squeers administering brimstone and treacle. V. Breakfast 
for the school. VI. Mr. Squeers gives a lesson in English 
spelling and philosophy. VII. Nicholas hears some lessons. 
VIII. Mr. Squeers holds an assembly of a painful nature in 
the schoolroom. IX. Nicholas and Smike. 


GENERAL QUESTIONS, CHAPTERS I-V 

1. Comment on the manner in which Dickens introduces his 
hero in this story. 2. Is it according to the dramatic custom 
of the present day? 3. Give some examples of the way in 
which heroes are introduced in some modern stories. 4. Take 
into consideration time, place, circumstances. 5. Was it the 
duty of Ralph Nickleby to care for his brother’s family? 6. To 
what extent, at the present time, are relatives obliged by 
law to care for each other? 7. Would it be a good plan to 
make such laws stricter and make relatives absolutely responsible 
for the care of all dependent relations? Explain. 8. Would 
it be a good idea to make all parents responsible for the care, 


QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 595 

morally and physically, of their children, and punish the parents 
as well as the children for any misdemeanor? Explain in a 
few sentences. 9. In what way did Ralph Nickleby observe 
that people who have no money always want to manage the 
money of others? 10. Was he obliged to help his brother’s 
family according to the English law? 11. What is this law at 
present? 

CHAPTER VI 

Make of this chapter an act of four scenes. If you wish to 
shorten the sketch, what can well be left out? 

Scene I. Time: 1850, winter evening. Place: The school¬ 
master’s family apartment, Dotheboys Hall, Yorkshire. Per¬ 
sons: Mr. Squeers, Mrs. Squeers, Miss Fanny Squeers, Master 
Wackford Squeers. 

Scene II. Time: Next day. Place: The schoolroom. Per¬ 
sons: Nicholas, Fanny, the Boys. 

Scene III. Time: Later in the same day. Place: Home of 
Matilda Price. Persons: Fanny and Matilda. 

Scene IV. Time: A day or two later. Place: Living room 
of the Squeers home. Persons: Fanny Squeers, Matilda, Nicho¬ 
las, John Browdie. Order of events : The arrival of Nicholas, 
the arrival of John, the game of cards, a disappointment, a 
misunderstanding, reflections of Nicholas. 


CHAPTER VII 

1. In 1850 what kinds of positions were open to girls? 
2. What position did Ralph obtain for his niece? 3. What 
work was she required to do? 4. How many hours did she 
work? 5. What was her salary? 6. What were Kate’s im¬ 
pressions of Mr. Mantalini? Why? 7. How did Newman 
Noggs assist Kate and her mother just after Kate obtained her 
position at the Mantalini house? 

CHAPTER VIII 

1. Describe the return of Mr. Squeers from the tavern and 
his retirement for the night. 2. What was the conversation 


596 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


between Fanny and Phoebe? 3. Describe the interview with 
Nicholas the day after the party and the future intentions of 
Fanny Squeers regarding him. 4. In what way was Smike 
affected by this? 5. Relate the conversation between Nicholas 
and Smike at the end of this chapter. 


CHAPTER IX 

1. Relate the conversation Kate overheard between Madame 
Mantalini and her husband. 2. How did Kate prosper at first 
in her new position? 3. How was she affected by the first letter 
of Nicholas? 


CHAPTER X 

Prepare this chapter for dramatic reading in seven scenes. I. 
The flight of Smike discovered. II. The preparations for the re¬ 
covery of Smike. III. The return of Mrs. Squeers with Smike. 
IV. The attempted punishment of Smike by Squeers. V. The 
schoolmaster beaten. VI. The departure of Nicholas Nickleby 
and his meeting with Mr. Browdie. VII. The meeting of 
Nicholas with Smike and their departure together. 


CHAPTER XI 

1. Describe the visit of Nicholas and Smike to Newman 
Noggs. 2. What were the contents of the letter of Fanny 
Squeers to Ralph Nickleby? 3. What experience did Nicholas 
have at the employment office that affected him in a different 
way from any other experience he had ever had? 


CHAPTER XII 

I. Describe the visit of the old lord and his intended bride 
to the Mantalini establishment and the result as far as' Kate 
and Miss Knag were concerned. 2, Describe the dinner party 
at the home of Ralph Nickleby, 


QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 597 


CHAPTER XIII 

1. Why did Nicholas go to see Miss La Creevy after he 
returned from Yorkshire? 2. Relate the conversation at the 
Nickleby home between Nicholas, Ralph, Mrs. Nickleby, and 
Kate. 3. What were the final words between Smike and Nicho¬ 
las on the evening of this same day? 4. What characteristics 
in the dispositions of Nicholas *do all these conversations show? 
5. What was he forced to do? 


CHAPTER XIV 

1. Why was Nicholas going to Portsmouth? 2. Did he do 
what he expected to do? Why? 3. Does Dickens show much 
knowledge of dramatic art? 4. Explain fully by giving illustra¬ 
tions of acting and of making plays. 5. For what parts were 
Nicholas and Smike booked in a certain play? 


CHAPTER XV 

1. What calamity happened at the Mantalini establishment 
that affected the position of Kate? 2. Who was the cause of 
this catastrophe? 3. Why was it so hard for Kate Nickleby 
to obtain a good position? 4. What could she have done at 
the present time? 5. "What was her next position? 6. Are 
there such positions as this at the present time? 7. How many 
hours did she work? 8. What kind of work? 


CHAPTER XVI 

1. Why did Lord Verisopht and Sir Mulberry Hawk call 
upon Ralph Nickleby after Kate left home to take her new 
position? 2. Describe the visit of Mr. Pluck and Mr. Pyke at 
the home of Mrs. Nickleby. 3. Who had planned this visit? 
4. Tell about the theatre party of the same evening, describing 
the actions of seven important people in this party. 5. What 
complaint did Lord Frederick Verisopht make? 6. What con¬ 
clusion regarding Sir Mulberry did he fipally reach? 



598 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

CHAPTER XVII 


1. In what plan had Sir Mulberry succeeded regarding the 
Witterly home? 2. What were the experiences of Kate at this 
time? 3. Why did she call upon her uncle? 4. Why did Mrs. 
Witterly denounce her? 5. Would a modern girl have been 
able to overcome this disagreeable and rather dangerous situ¬ 
ation? How? 


CHAPTER XVIII 

1. Nicholas Nickleby was what kind of an actor? 2. Describe 
the result of the benefit performance. 3. What did he do with 
his first money? 4. Why did Newman Noggs call upon Miss 
La Creevy after writing to Nicholas? 


CHAPTER XIX 

1. Describe the encounter of Nicholas with Sir Mulberry 
Hawk. 2. Could he have acted any differently? 3. What was 
the final result of this interview? 


CHAPTER XX 

1. Describe the removal of the Nickleby family to the home 
of Miss La Creevy. 2. What was in the letter that Nicholas 
sent to his uncle? 


CHAPTER XXI 

1. Why did Mr. Mantalini call upon Ralph Nickleby with 
some papers belonging to his wife? 2. Why did Madame 
Mantalini call upon Ralph Nickleby? 3. In what way was 
her husband occupied when she called? 4. How did the call 
terminate as far as she and her husband were concerned? 
5. Describe the visit of Wackford Squeers to Ralph Nickleby 
and the conversation that took place between them. 6. Why 
did Squ§§rs think Newman both crazy and drunk? 


QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 599 


CHAPTER XXII 

1. Describe the meeting of Nicholas with Mr. Charles Cheery- 
ble, Tim Linkinwater, and Mr. Ned Cheeryble. 2. Describe 
the new home of the Nicklebys. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

1. For what purpose did Ralph Nickleby call upon Sir Mul¬ 
berry Hawk? 2. Was he successful in the object of his visit? 
3. What opinion did Lord Verisopht express concerning the 
plan of Ralph and Sir Mulberry? 


CHAPTER XXIV 

1. Describe the birthday dinner of Tim Linkinwater. 

2. What did the Cheeryble brothers give him for a present? 

3. The anniversary of whose death was observed always at 
this time? 4. What impression must Nicholas have had about 
these brothers? 5. What was their nationality? 6. Relate 
some of their early history. 7. What was their business? 
8. W'hat did Mrs. Nickleby say about the man next door? 


CHAPTER XXV 

1. Describe the second time Nicholas saw the young lady 
who had so impressed him at the employment office. 2. Pre¬ 
pare for dramatic reading the scene with the mad gentleman 
next door. Persons: Mrs. Nickleby, Mad Gentleman, Kate, 
His Keeper. Place and time: One afternoon in the garden of 
the Nicklebys. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

1. Describe the capture of Smike by the pair of Wackfords; 
the ride in the cab; the arrival at Snawley’s; the imprisonment 
of Smike; the arrival of John Browdie, his wife, and Fanny 
Squeers in London. 2. How did Smike escape? 3. Where did 
he go? 4. Describe his return to the cottage. 


600 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XXVII 

Prepare this chapter for dramatic reading. Place: Small 
dining room at the Saracen Hotel. Time: Evening. Persons: 
Mr. John Browdie, his wife, Nicholas Nickleby, Fanny Squeers, 
Mr. Squeers, young Wackford Squeers. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

1. Who was Mr. Frank Cheeryble? 2. Where does he first 
make his appearance in the story? 3. What news does New¬ 
man give Ralph that disappointed him for a time in his plan 
for vengeance on Nicholas? 4. What was the conversation 
between Ralph Nickleby and a beggar named Brooker? 

5. Describe the complete financial fall of Mr. Mantalini. 

6. Who had a great share in bringing this about (man and 
woman) ? 


CHAPTER XXIX 

1. Give a description, oral or written, of Mr. and Mrs. 
Browdie’s last night in London. 2. Wlio was the most impor¬ 
tant character of the evening entertainment? Why?" 3. What 
important documents were shown to Nicholas by his uncle? 
4. What is the strongest feeling aroused in the reader? 5. What 
two feelings are blended in this chapter which show Dickens as 
a master of style? 


CHAPTER XXX 

1. On the day when the Browdies left London, why did Ralph 
Nickleby make a visit to the Cheeryble brothers? 2. On that 
same day what secret commission for the Cheeryble brothers 
did Nicholas undertake? 3. Did Madeline Bray show strength 
or weakness of character? 4. Should she have abandoned her 
father and cared more for herself? 5. Explain her position in 
life. 6. Why did the Cheeryble brothers befriend her? 


QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 601 


7. Dickens said that the character of these brothers was taken 
from real life. Have you ever known any one like them? 

8. Do they seem natural in the story? 


CHAPTER XXXI 

1. In what way did Nicholas sacrifice his feelings in the se¬ 
cret commission he undertook for the Cheeryble brothers? 
2. Describe the visit of the mad gentleman next door to the 
Nickleby cottage. 


CHAPTER XXXII 

1. What duel took place in this book? 2. What was the 
cause? 3. Is a duel ever justifiable? 4. Was it against the 
law in England at that time? 5. How do you know? 6. Com¬ 
pare the characters of Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick 
Verisopht. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

1. What request did Arthur Gride make of Ralph Nickleby? 
2. What exchange of favors was planned? 3. What was the 
idea of Dickens concerning marriages for money? 4. What 
argument did Ralph Nickleby use with Mr. Bray? 


CHAPTER XXXIV 

Prepare this chapter as the act of a play in three scenes. 
Scene I. Time: Evening. Place: Living room of Arthur 
Gride. Persons: Arthur Gride, Peg Sliderskew, Newman Noggs. 

Scene II. Time: Later the same evening. Place: Ralph 
Nickleby’s office. Persons: Ralph Nickleby and Newman 
Noggs. 

Scene III. Time: Still later the same evening. Place: On 
the street. Persons: Nicholas Nickleby and Newman Noggs. 


602 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XXXV 

1. What plea did Nicholas Nickleby make of Mr. Bray? 
2. What plea did Nicholas make of Madeline Bray? 3. What 
offer does Nicholas make to Arthur Gride? 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Describe the wedding of Arthur Gride, making use of the fol¬ 
lowing words: 

Arthur Gride 

Nicholas 

cruel 

angry 

Peg Sliderskew 

Nickleby 

dream 

loss 

Ralph Nickle¬ 

Kate Nickleby 

remorse 

away 

by 

Mr. Bray 

funeral 

dazed 

bottle green 

Madeline 

fall 

coach 

white favors 

Bray 

knocked down 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

1. What surprise did Arthur Gride receive when he went 
home from Mr. Bray’s home on the day of Mr. Bray’s death? 
2. What proposition did Ralph Nickleby make to Mr. Squeers 
regarding Peg Sliderskew? 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 

1. Describe the dramatic scene between Mr. Squeers and 
Peg Sliderskew, with the intervention of Newman Noggs and 
Frank Cheeryble. 2. How did Newman Noggs get his infor¬ 
mation respecting Mr. Squeers? 3. What was the weapon he 
used? 4. Who found the address of Peg Sliderskew? 5. What 
was the object of Squeers? 


CHAPTERS XXXIX AND XL 

1. Describe the condition of Madeline Bray after the death 
of her father. 2. Who was her nurse? 3. Where was she 


QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 603 

staying? 4. What advice did Mrs. Nickleby give Nicholas 
regarding Kate and Frank Cheeryble? 5. Why did Nicholas 
refuse to act on this advice? 6. In what unusual way did the 
Cheeryble brothers show kindness to Smike after his health 
became impaired? 7. To what place did Nicholas and Smike 
go? 


CHAPTER XLI 

I. Why did Mr. Charles Cheeryble call upon Ralph Nickleby? 

2. Describe the visit of Ralph Nickleby to the Snawley home. 

3. Why did Arthur Gride refuse to let Ralph Nickleby enter 
his house, and why did he speak fearfully from an upper 
window? 4. Why did Ralph Nickleby call at the house of 
Cheeryble Brothers after Gride and Snawley refused to talk 
to him? 5. What did Newman Noggs tell Ralph at Cheeryble 
Brothers’ house? 6. What advice did Charles Cheeryble give 
Ralph? 7. Describe the interview of Ralph with Squeers at the 
police station. 8. What advice did Ralph give Squeers at 
this time? 9. In what manner did Squeers respond? 10. Of 
what crime was Squeers accused? 

II. Describe the second visit of Ralph to Cheeryble Brothers 
in order to get important information according to the message 
of Tim Linkinwater. 12. What information did Brooker give 
Ralph Nickleby at Cheeryble Brothers? 13. Describe the effect 
of the terrible disclosure of Brooker on Ralph Nickleby. 


CHAPTER XLII 

1. What was the attitude of Nicholas towards Madeline 
Bray, and what was his request to the Cheeryble brothers on 
account of this? 2. Was this foolish on the part of Nicholas? 
3. Is Dickens inconsistent here in making a lack of money a 
great drawback in selecting a wife? 4. Has he shown any 
different view before? 5. Were Kate and Nicholas both taking 
too many chances in losing their greatest happiness in life? 
6. Do you think Nicholas right or wrong according to present- 
day customs? 7. Was Kate like the present girl? 8. Was 
she a girl any brother would like to have for a sister? 
9. Describe the death of Ralph Nickleby. 


604 


NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 


CHAPTER XLIII 

1. Describe the dinner party in this book at which time there 
were three engagements announced. 2. Who were responsible 
for this happy occasion? How? 3. What change in circum¬ 
stances did Newman Noggs experience at the close of this 
story ? 


CHAPTER XLIV 

1. Describe the last time Kate saw Mr. Mantalini. 2. What 
was learned about his circumstances at that time? 3. Why 
did Nicholas pay a second visit to Yorkshire? 4. What 
was the fate of Mr. Squeers? Of Peg Sliderskew? 5. What 
charges were preferred against those two people? 6. For what 
reason did John Browdie visit Dotheboys School after Nicholas 
told him the fate of Squeers? 7. What did John Browdie do 
at the school at this time? 8. Describe the fate of the school. 
9. Is John Browdie a likable character? Why? 


GENERAL QUESTIONS 

1. A coincidence is the coinciding or meeting, accidentally, of 
the same ideas, the same things, or people in some way con¬ 
nected. Mention a few coincidences in this book. Does 
Dickens make too much use of coincidence? 2. What can be 
said of the religious element in the character of Dickens? Give 
examples of this. 3. What scene is the most humorous in the 
book? Prepare it for reading. 4. What scene is the most pa¬ 
thetic? Prepare it for reading. 5. What scene is the most 
dramatic? Prepare it for reading. 6. Do you think the death 
of Smike injures the story, or is it a natural part of the events? 











' •; 13 

• > 




j 


\ 












Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 

AUG 1996 

HBBftKEEFER 

PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC. 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412) 779-2111 



















I 






















































